Supernatural Re-set - The Redshirt
by P. Sage-ish
Summary: In this story a promise made to John Winchester shortly before his death is kept. Various antics ensue.


**Supernatural Re-set**

 **The Redshirt**

 **by Sage-ish**

* * *

 **PROLOGUE**

 **Windham Park, Collier Township, Illinois, April 2006**

The park was a little old-fashioned and a little worn, swings and a seesaw and a jungle gym. It was one of the first warmish days of the year and the air was tangible with early spring pollen. Several children swarmed the old equipment with the customary screeches of kids who'd been sprung after a long winter. The hundred-year old park was a joyful place, laughter and fun had been seeping into its grounds year after year for longer than anyone in the area had been alive.

John Winchester liked this park a lot, being himself a little old-fashioned and quite a bit worn. One of his earliest cases as a hunter had been taking down the ghost of a child terrorizing the neighborhood – a little boy bullied during the 50s into climbing too high, who had then fallen and split his head on the concrete surround of the jungle gym. After John had salted and burned the area over a decade ago the town dug up the concrete and sodded the area – now ghost free and a lot safer. It was not unusual for John to drop by for a little thinking time if his work happened to bring him to the area.

John sat on a wooden bench at the park's periphery and watched the children play, his face set, hunched forward with his forearms on his knees. He was tall and powerfully built; in his fifties his hair was still more brown than not and what grey there was gave him a distinctive air. He carried himself with the discipline of an ex-Marine, and of the difficult, bloody work he'd done since then.

He was more tired than he could remember ever being and that was saying something since he'd been quite tired for quite a long time. His knees and back and soul and heart hurt and the last several months he'd been running on the fumes of fumes. He was closer to the demon who'd murdered his wife than he had ever been and for the first time in years was now thinking about what might come after – after this was done. He looked at the happy, shrieking children and because he was alone and there was no one to see, he cried just a little.

He suddenly sensed more than saw a slight movement to his right and whirled, quickly – cursing his useless descent into existential moaning. As he turned, his right hand went into the left interior pocket of his jacket for a weapon. As he completed the turn he relaxed slightly, although not completely, and let his hand drop at the sight of the young girl.

She might have been 8 or 9 but was so pale and delicately formed she could easily have been a year or two older. She was neither particularly pretty nor plain but there was an appealingly direct look in the green eyes set under defined brows and above a rather adorable nose. Her mouth looked as though it really ought to be smiling and was only not at the stern will of its owner.

What kept him from relaxing entirely was in part a rather un-childlike stillness about her. She stood a couple of feet away with her hands clasped at her waist, her long brown hair blowing slightly in the Illinois early-spring air, an almost-smile on her face. The second thing he noticed was her odd dress. Most of the kids were wearing jeans and shirts or light sweaters so a dress at all in such a place was a little odd but the style of the dress took it into the realm of really peculiar. He might have mistaken her for a Mennonite child, so old-fashioned and modest was the dress, but for the very un-Mennonite richness of the gown's fabric. It was constructed of a royal blue velvet, swept the ground, was high-waisted and collared. Down the center of the dress was a rather gorgeous brocade panel, worked through with images of flowers and vines. She seemed solid enough so probably not a ghost but definitely a little Disney meets Grimm's Fairy Tales. John rested his right hand on his thigh but remained totally alert because something was not quite right. He straightened a bit as she took a step forward.

The child stopped immediately, gestured to the space beside him on the bench and asked, "May I join you?" He nodded a little warily but he was actually pretty wild to know what she was all about. She walked to the bench and looked at it for a second as though working out the physics of sitting down. John solved the apparent dilemma by picking her up under the arms and setting her on the bench, then resumed his seat. She looked oddly astonished for a second then thanked him prettily and they sat in silence for a moment.

"What are you?" John asked, looking back at the playing children. When she didn't answer immediately he looked over at her and saw she was touching her gown and face and hair over and over in rapid succession with an anxious expression on her face. She looked up and asked a little forlornly, "Do I not look right? Not like the other children?" Then she put her tiny hands on her face on either side of her mouth in an unconscious but dead-on imitation of McCauley Culkin in _Home Alone_ all the way down to the "O" of her little mouth. John fought the urge to roar with laughter because she was so genuinely appalled but his voice shook a little when he assured her she looked just fine. She sighed and seemed to relax, just a bit. She folded her hands in her lap. Both of them looked once again at the other children.

After a brief pause, she finally answered his original question – after a fashion. She said, "I'm, I guess you could say I'm . . . new. You don't actually have a name for me. I am 'human-ish'" the side of her mouth quirked up, "but not entirely, or not only, human. In fact, I believe your name for me would be 'monster'."

As she formulated and gave her answer she lightly knocked her feet together a little nervously. When John looked down at them he realized with bemusement that in extreme contrast to the fancy dress, she was wearing what at first glance looked like Army combat boots. As he looked more closely his eyes widened and he quickly glanced at his own feet and then back at hers. It made no sense, but she seemed to be wearing miniature exact replicas of his own worn work boots, right down to the smear of yellow paint on the left one.

She noticed his glance and smiled sunnily up at him for the first time, then looked down at her feet with great satisfaction. She answered the question he hadn't asked, "My . . . guardian wears a dress like this" gesturing at herself, "but I've never seen her feet so I had no understanding of what shoes to wear. When I saw yours I thought they looked very comfortable so I made some for me. They are quite acceptable." John asked her how she "made" the shoes but she just looked confused.

So John moved on to his next point. "If you can't tell me _what_ you are, can you tell me _who_ you are?" She looked up from her tiny boots with a quizzical expression. He elaborated, "What name are you called?" She told him she was called Lyria and as she said it she smiled and suddenly she looked just like any other child who had just figured out how to make an adult happy with her. He couldn't help it, he smiled back. "How shall I call you?" she asked rather formally and he told her to just call him John. At his smile her own got broader and she flushed with happiness before ducking her head to look at her hands, now playing with one of the ribbons circling her sleeves.

John arrowed in on one statement and, looking around, asked Lyria where her guardian was. She looked up at him again with a little bit of a mischievous wrinkle of her nose and admitted that she had escaped from her guardian. "I don't live in this world, not yet. I've, what is the word, comment dit-on . . . ah, absconded" she said with the merry air of a completely unrepentant felon. She didn't appear to notice that she'd switched mid-sentence from English to French and John didn't think it worth mentioning.

Still smiling, John asked, "So, why have you absconded into my world?" Lyria suddenly turned serious and looked rather searchingly at him. "You are very sad, very tired," she said simply. She fell silent, which annoyed John because that was a really insufficient answer. A little impatiently, he replied, "What in the world does that have to do with you?" She opened her mouth, closed it again without replying. They both looked at the children again, John annoyed and confused, Lyria still banging her little boots together.

After a moment, she gestured toward the children and said, "Watching them made you cry. Is it because you are thinking of your sons?" Suddenly, John was no longer even slightly entertained; he was on high alert for any threat, no matter how absurd the package it came in. Lyria, sensing the change in John's manner appeared to want to reassure him. "I know to you I am a monster; but I am not a danger to anyone. In fact," she said, smiling again, "I am training to be a healer when I am grown."

John relaxed a little but he didn't answer her question. She sat, assuming again that stillness he had noticed when she first appeared.

Suddenly, for no reason he could ever later articulate, John gave in to the need to tell someone, anyone, even a slightly unbelievable, fey child, what had been weighing unbearably on him. Gesturing toward the children he began talking and, once started, he couldn't seem to stop.

"I have two amazing sons. They never had this - this mindless spring fun and excitement. They never had any of the normal, everyday adventures and experiences they had a right to have – that I was supposed to give them. Their childhood was blood and monsters and death and fear and a half-drunk, half-crazy father. They deserved so much better." His voice grew hoarse and now he was speaking mostly to himself, "and now there is no way to go back and make that right."

He laughed a little unsteadily and wiped away a lone tear that had escaped his formidable discipline. "God, I must have needed to get that out for a while, but I have no idea why I'm saying it to you." Sinking back into the creeping fatigue that had recently begun dogging him he stopped talking and looked over at Lyria, who kept her gaze on the playing children.

Her forehead now wrinkled in concentration, Lyria seemed to consider her words for a few beats, then began to speak. Slowly, as though she were translating her thoughts into English she said, "You believe it was your job as a father to raise your sons in comfort and security, to give them a childhood of play and safety and innocent happiness. Instead, you raised them to understand and fight the monsters of your world and their growing years were filled instead with uncertainty, fear and violence. You think this makes you a bad father. Do I have all of that correct?" John laughed sickly at the devastating summation and nodded without speaking.

Lyria nodded back, paused and then began speaking again, suddenly sounding much older and her voice acquiring a kind of resonance that reminded John she might very well be a child, but she was not a human child. "All of this is perfectly true. Not only that, I think it likely your sons feel much the same way." John paled, feeling like he'd just been gut-punched.

But Lyria was not finished. "I can see that childhood you're imagining, its beauty and simplicity, very clearly." She sighed a little. "But here's the thing, John. What comes for your sons now would still be coming even if they had had that lovely alternate childhood. The big difference is they would not be prepared for it; they would not have the skills or mental toughness they possess now. So, they would be pretty easily killed (John felt a chill at the matter-of-fact way she said this) or worse."

She turned to face him. "Worse?" he repeated in puzzlement. "Yes" she said grimly, "or worse, easily turned to an evil purpose by what hunts them." Another pause. "You may not be the father you wish you'd been; you may not even be the father they would have liked you to be. But you have been the father they needed you to be. I think one day they will understand that."

There followed what seemed like a long silence. Then, very softly, she added, "Your sons are noble, brave and loving men – because they were raised by a noble, brave and loving man. Believe in that; believe in them."

After a couple of seconds, John blinked away the sudden tears and straightened up, taking himself in hand. She obviously had useful intelligence. Rather than sitting there wallowing with her he should be extracting it. He got to it briskly, in rapid succession asking her questions regarding the yellow-eyed demon he had been hunting for 22 years, why it was targeting Sam, what that bigger danger on the horizon was. His voice got harsher and his questions more clipped. She just sat, her hands folded in her lap and looked sadly at him without saying another word.

Finally, looking away, she said, "I cannot stay much longer and I have no answers for you, John. That is not why I came." Exasperated, he snapped, "Why then?" Returning to the beginning of their conversation, she brought up how sad and tired he was and he was so annoyed by that he looked around for something to hit that was not a little girl. What the Hell did that matter?! "What the Hell does that matter?!" he shouted.

Lyria looked at him now a little chidingly, as though he was a child having a tantrum - that just annoyed him more. "What?!" Lyria began swinging her legs. Then she pointed out, slowly as though speaking to a drunk - and just a little snarkily, "You know very well that what's coming now will make your worst nightmares look like a night at Plucky Penniwistle's. I can't help but think it a really bad idea for you to go up against the darkest forces you've ever faced . . ." she gestured at him and grimaced, "broken all to bits. I can help you. I am studying to be a healer; I'm not as powerful as I will be one day but I can ensure you go into battle in, what do they call it? Ah, fighting trim."

It suddenly occurred to John that between the French phrases and the British idioms it was remarkable he could understand anything she said. He shook the thought away and tried to calm down. "You seem to know a lot about me and my family," his voice grew steely, "so you know that I don't matter, my sons are the ones who matter. Can you help them? Will you help them?"

For a beat, it seemed to John she was startlingly angry at what he considered the simple fact of his own irrelevance. Then she appeared to come to a conclusion and smiled at him. "Maybe we can have an exchange - I think it's called a negotiation? I am not yet in this world, but one day I will be and will have significant, shall we say, resources. In exchange for two pledges from you; I will promise to see to the wellbeing of both of your sons at the very earliest opportunity. What do you say?"

John had every reason to be suspicious of a deal. One of the earliest and hardest-won bits of wisdom in the world of the supernatural hunters is that all magic comes at a cost – and the cost can rarely be calculated up front. He knew that. He KNEW that. Yet there was barely a pause before he agreed and asked her what two pledges she wanted from him.

Lyria's eyes glowed and she began speaking rapidly as though afraid he might change his mind. "First, you let me heal you. It will not take long at all and all I need from you is your agreement to let me hold your hand." John held out his hand and she clasped it in her tiny one. For a minute she just looked down at their joined hands with a kind of wistful joy. She then looked away into the trees ringing the park, saying nothing but growing rather pale.

Neither spoke for several minutes. John was preoccupied with a feeling of growing well-being that he didn't trust and hadn't felt more than a handful of times since the day his wife Mary had been murdered. His fatigue drained away and with it the accompanying feelings of desperation and despair that had been creeping up on him for months. His bum knee and his back suddenly stopped aching and he felt clear-headed and almost frighteningly optimistic.

Five minutes or so after Lyria had taken his hand she let it go. Searching his face with smiling eyes, she seemed to approve of what she saw. "You are very handsome when you smile, John." She giggled, an unexpected and charming sound that lodged right in John's heart. She seemed a little unsteady for a moment but shook her head slightly and settled back into the bench.

After a deep breath and rapid self-assessment John admitted, "I feel great. For not being at full power – you do good work." She smiled a thank you for his appreciation. She then turned serious and said, "As to the second pledge . . ." He looked at her enquiringly and then intently as he saw the distress on her face. "Tell me" he said in a reassuring manner. After a moment, she began.

"As a hunter, you spend a great deal of time gathering information; signs, details, characteristics – all sorts of information you need to identify and hunt monsters, yes?" A French accent had crept in again but she was obviously unaware of it and he didn't say anything about it, just nodding in agreement.

"I go through a similar process. I collect pieces of information about your world and I try to put them together so I understand how your history is unfolding. There is a growing menace in your world – I know you have sensed it as well. I am not a seer – I do not know exactly what comes or when. The signs I have seen tell me that a crossroads will come to you soon, a time of sacrifice and a threat of great darkness. I cannot do anything about that. The pledge I ask of you is this . . ." she turned and looked straight in John's eyes. "If you should find yourself within the darkness, a place of no peace and great pain, I ask that you keep in a secret part of your heart the tiniest bit of hope. Keep it well-hidden so it can't be wrenched from you and don't let go of it no matter what. If you will do this, one day I will come to take you away. I promise. Will you do this for me?" Looking past his own astonishment at her words he saw fear and passion in her face.

John picked up one of her little hands, now trembling and cold when just a few minutes earlier it had been warm and healing. He held it in both of his and, more to reassure her than because he believed in what she was foretelling, he gave her his word he would keep a single spark of hope alive in his heart until she could come for him.

For several minutes neither spoke, each retreating a bit from the sudden intimacy between the fierce hunter and the monster child. Then Lyria pointed at the swings and asked idly, "what is the enjoyment of those seats? The children seem to find the experience very (searching for the appropriate word, dropping back into French) exaltant, ah, exhilarating, yes?"

John looked around at her and asked, "Where do you live that you don't know about swings?" Lyria looked as though she didn't understand the question. "I live in a little box – there are no swings there."

John considered her for a second, stood up and held out his hand. "Let's go try them out." She looked at his hand then up at his face. "Really?" "Yes, really." He grinned and she jumped to the ground and placed her hand in his. When they got to the swings he lifted her into one and leaned down to explain how to lean forward and pump her legs for momentum. Then he began pushing the swing and she flew up, ribbons and hair streaming, her smile of joy breathtaking. For several long minutes John felt a profound peace as the world receded and was reduced to just this swing set and a little girl's joyful swinging up and back, her delighted laughter falling about him like a sparkler's fire.

Then the swing came back one final time – empty.

* * *

Lyria landed back in her 'box' with a thump. She did not know how to contain so many feelings and sensations; the touch of John's hand, the feel of swinging up to the heavens, a spring day and a warm smile just for her. She sat on the little table and swung her boots back and forth, going over every moment in her mind, her eyes closed and every emotion possible passing in turn across her face.

Suddenly, Lyria knew she was no longer alone. Arene was here – and she was very angry. For the very first but far from the last time, Lyria felt the lash of a whip land on her back. Simultaneously, her pretty dress melted away so her back was bare and unprotected. As thin bloody lines bloomed where the whip landed, her pain and terror were only more intense because the whip crashing down on her was completely invisible and the one wielding it completely silent.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 1**

 **The Men of Letters' Bunker, early summer 2015**

The main room of the bunker was strewn with books and papers, as well as the leavings of a half a dozen meals and numerous empty scotch glasses. Sam and Dean had been tearing through anything they could find for a couple of weeks now looking for some kind of clue to destroying the darkness released when the Mark of Cain was lifted from Dean's arm. To break up the monotony, one or the other would periodically spend some time tapping various sources trying to get a trail on Rowena, who now had both The Book of the Dead and the Codex needed to translate it. All in all, their plates were top heavy, which was just as well.

Neither wanted to deal with the corrosive guilt and anger he was feeling about Charlie's death and the newest world-threatening horror they had released. Neither had the energy or the will to reach out and start repairing the tattered pieces of their relationship. So they did what Winchesters did best, shoved it all down to the pit of their psyches, pretended everything was fine and did the job. Occasionally one or the other went out for food or booze. Today they were running low on both.

They spoke only when it was essential and spent a lot of time almost completely silent, no sound but the rustling pages of the books, papers and journals the Men of Letters had left in the bunker and which they were desperately hoping would help them. Hope was not particularly ample but they'd worked with this little before. They sat at either end of one of the three long tables that took up the bulk of the room and rarely looked at each other.

A ringing sliced through the silence and each looked around to see where the sound had come from. It was not coming from either of the phones on the table so Dean opened the drawer of a side table holding a bunch of other, older phones, picked one up and said "Hello." He almost dropped the phone back into the drawer when, "Hello, brother," came through in Benny Lafitte's drawl - mostly because Benny, as far as he knew, was fighting his way through Purgatory, a place definitely outside cell range.

"Benny?!" exclaimed Dean, disbelieving, setting the phone on speaker so Sam could hear as well. "What the Hell! How are you calling me from Purgatory?" As soon as he asked the question, Dean realized how idiotic it sounded but Benny just laughed. "Not Purgatory, not anymore; you know it don't like humans down there. Spit me out just like it did you once upon a time. I'm human now, brother."

Sam and Dean exchanged "smell's funny" looks. Dean said, "Where are you? I could use a break – tell me where you are and I'll meet you there. Let's have a drink and you can tell me your story."

"Sounds good." Benny replied. "But I need to come to you. Fact is, we need somewhere to lay low for a night and rumor has it you have the best hideaway on the planet these days. Seems like you've got a story or two to tell too."

The brothers' radar were waving all over the place at this point. The bunker was warded and secure so Trojan horse was really the only way an enemy could get in. Benny had saved both their lives in the past; was he now an enemy, and, if so, why? And who was he allied with? Their list of enemies was embarrassingly lengthy. Dean realized the silence was getting a little lengthy too but didn't know quite what to do about it. It didn't sit well to treat someone who'd been nothing but good to them like a threat. Of course it was possible this wasn't Benny at all, just Benny's meat suit with some gnarly demon or lame ass angel running the show.

Just as Dean was getting ready to ask a few clarifying questions Benny spoke again, saying simply, "Semper fi, jackass. Now, you gonna let us in or should we go away? No harm, brother, if this isn't a good time." His Louisiana drawl had a bit of an edge now and Dean knew instinctively that what he did and said over the next few minutes would determine whether he ever saw Benny again.

"Go away? Just where are you, Benny?" "Well," Benny replied, "I'm told we're outside your front door although it looks like an old power plant to me."

Sam jumped over to the next table and clicked a couple of buttons on his laptop. Sure enough, when the camera at the front door of the bunker came on it showed someone who looked an awful lot like Benny on the phone and next to him a young woman. She had been looking at Benny but immediately turned her unsmiling face up to the camera and sent a little wave up to Sam. Sam gestured for Dean to come look; Dean told Benny to hold for a second and joined Sam at the laptop.

She waved a second time as though she knew Dean was now looking at her. Sam and Dean looked at each other, looked back at her and then mimed at each other. Sam waved his hands, palms up as though to say, "What are we going to do now?" Dean rubbed the back of his neck as though to say, "I have no idea." But there was really only one thing to do.

Sam tidied up the work area so no one could tell what they had been working on while Dean ran down to the door to let Benny and his companion in. The phrase Benny had used meant automatic entry and sanctuary. When they were young and their dad had sent people to fetch them, "semper fi, jackass" was the phrase they used to let Dean and Sam know John had sent them, that they were friends. It had featured in more than a few stories he'd told Benny to pass the time as they battled the monster world on their bloody path through Purgatory to its escape hatch. The brothers hadn't heard it used as a password in decades but it still meant something to them. Dean wasn't sure what, but something.

The hallway between the door and the common area of the bunker was narrow by design. Dean gave Benny a quick one-armed hug, nodded at the young woman shrouded in the gathering early evening gloom and hustled them inside while looking around the door for any immediate and identifiable threat. He gestured for them to precede him down the hall. Sam would be armed so if this was some sort of invasion they would have it contained between them.

When they entered the common area, Sam was standing with a tentative smile on his face and a handgun stuck in the back of his pants. He held out a hand to shake Benny's and then he and Dean looked enquiringly between Benny and the young woman. Benny said, simply, "This is Lyria."

Lyria looked to be 19 or 20, and unremarkable in every way. She was of medium height and a little hunched with it, had medium brown hair and a face that was extraordinarily ordinary; her best feature was a pair of large, unblinking green eyes. She was wearing a simple blue dress with three-quarter sleeves and a full skirt that put Sam in mind of some old musical but he couldn't recall which one. They noticed she was barefoot as she turned in a little circle, ignoring Sam and Dean in favor of exploring the room with her eyes.

Benny gently touched her shoulder and they shared a brief look, on her end impassive, on his a little bemused. Lyria looked from Sam to Dean and said softly, "It is kind of you to let Poppy and me stay the night." Dean looked at Benny and mouthed, "Poppy?"

Benny grinned. "Poppy is kind of a nickname." Looking for clarity, Dean asked. "What are you?" Lyria looked at him for a moment then replied, "I bet that sounded less rude when you said it in your head." Dean replied, "Not really and I'm never particularly concerned about being rude."

Lyria nodded and looked at him, still with no expression on her face. "I am a danger to no one. I have no other answers for you. Do you wish for Poppy and me to leave?"

Dean was now extremely frustrated but his debt to Benny was profound and maybe the direct approach just wasn't the way to go. He shot a glance at Sam, who nodded slightly. Then he smiled at Lyria, "You're welcome to stay as long as you need."

Lyria nodded, shot a brief look at Benny, then wandered over to some bookshelves, selected a book and sat on the floor with it, her back to the men. Benny looked at Dean and asked, "So, do you have a drink for an old friend?"

For the next hour or so, Sam and Dean and Benny sat in club chairs set to one side of the long table and worked their way through a bottle of scotch. The brothers delicately probed with roundabout questions which Benny fielded with general and genial responses. He only got specific when he spoke about Lyria coming to him a few weeks earlier and asking him if he would like it if she could heal him of being a vampire. Benny laughed as he recalled, "She had actually written out a list of pros and cons for me to consider and said she would go over them with me so I could make an informed decision. It was the damnedest thing. I think what really got to me was 'pro #5 – you can sail during the afternoon' - that and how earnest she was. I felt somehow it would disappoint her if I declined the offer. Since then, I guess you could say we've been traveling companions."

"So, she's a healer?" Sam asked. Before Benny could reply, Sam and Dean were distracted by a disturbance over by Lyria, who'd been so quiet they'd almost forgotten she was there. But now she was running around the bookshelves until she suddenly stopped and plopped down in front of a small chest, rooting around under it with her right arm, scolding, "Juno, you come back right now!"

Benny sighed. "Child, how many times do I have to remind you to not let her run around in strange places?" Lyria frowned over at him and then continued calling to Juno until, finally, the brothers saw a tiny orange kitten peek out from under the chest. Lyria clapped her hands and Juno jumped into her lap.

Dean walked over and knelt by Lyria. Thinking he was being funny and mellowed by Glenlivet, Dean asked, "So, is this your familiar?" Lyria picked Juno up and held her out to Dean, replying very seriously, "No, she is my kitten. Her name is Juno because she has a mighty heart . . . but she's easily startled so please don't shoot any guns." As Dean reached out a finger to pet Juno, Lyria abruptly pulled the kitten away. "She is not for eating."

Dean began to think the girl was stone nuts. "I don't eat kittens, why would you think I eat kittens?"

"Well," she replied, "you eat the cows." Dean shook his head as if to dislodge the crazy. "Everyone eats the cows. No one eats kittens." Then with a typical shit-eating grin he added, "There's not enough meat on those bones anyway."

Sam winced. Lyria's eyes got wide and for a beat everything was quiet, then Lyria burst out laughing and Dean gave Sam and Benny a look as if to say see, I told you I was funny.

Almost immediately, Lyria sobered, ducked her head and, with her back to the men gave her attention back to Juno. The three men stood together looking at her back, Benny with an affectionate smile and the Winchesters with a glance at each other and back at her full of a new level of speculation. Where the Hell had the kitten come from?

Over the next couple of hours, between the whiskey and the company, the Winchester brothers relaxed into a state of disinterested comfort that had been absent from their lives for a very long time. Eventually they put together a bunch of leftovers for dinner and afterward Dean and Benny amused Sam with some colorful Purgatory anecdotes. Sam and Dean became so relaxed they again all but forgot about the young girl sitting among the books reading and playing with her kitten, who had responded to their invitation to eat something with a shy smile and a quiet, "No thank you, I am not hungry." Benny never lost sight of her but was content to sit with his friend and Sam, enjoying the quiet evening.

Eventually the brothers had trouble keeping their eyes open and, forgetting entirely that their objective had been to interrogate Benny and his young companion, sought their rooms after showing Benny and Lyria to rooms of their own. They fell into their beds to have the best sleep in years, only wondering long afterward how that was even possible.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 2**

 **The Men of Letters' Bunker, 2:30 a.m. the next morning**

Benny sat in a club chair in the common area. Lyria had asked him to wait there and had arranged for a decanter of Armagnac next to one of the comfortable chairs and a first edition of The Old Man and the Sea to keep him company. So he waited, one part of his mind on Hemingway and the other alert for a sign of her. He finally heard her soft footfalls coming from a side hallway and closed the book, his finger marking his place.

Lyria appeared in the hallway, looking much as she had earlier but Benny noticed that a length of her hair was now snow white. He remained seated, remained silent, just tilting his head a little and lifting his left eyebrow quizzically. Lyria somberly glided toward him with her hands at her waist until she was standing directly in front of him.

All of a sudden, Lyria dropped to the floor with her skirt billowing out around her and began laughing so loudly and raucously Benny was sure one or both of the Winchesters were going to come running any second. This did not seem to occur to Lyria, who by this time was rolling around on the floor in an almost hysterical ecstasy of mirth. Each time it looked like she might be sobering up she took another look at Benny's frustrated face and the laughter started up again.

As Lyria sat laughing on the floor her entire appearance underwent a series of changes. Her posture, which earlier in the evening had been a little hunched and closed in was now straighter and she was seen to be slightly above average height for a woman, maybe 5'8". Her nondescript brown hair was now a deeper and more variegated type of chestnut, much shorter, thicker, slightly wavy and bound back in a loose braid except for the white portion in front now braided separately down the right side of her face and confined by three jet beads.

The demure blue dress was gone and in its place she wore a pair of comfortable, worn blue jeans, fitted but not tight, tucked into knee high black leather boots with a square toe and short heel. They too looked both worn and chosen more for comfort than style. Over the jeans she wore a long white shirt, tucked in the front, hanging out in the back as was the fashion; structured like a man's but fitted for a woman's shape. Over the shirt she wore a vest of the same type of worn black leather as the boots; the vest had several external and internal pockets and was a bit dinged up. Juno peeked out of one of the pockets, then tucked her head back inside and went to sleep.

Around Lyria's neck was a trio of necklaces. Two were long, almost to her waist and silver, each chain holding one large charm. The charm on one was in the shape of an oval locket, the other in the shape of a book. The third necklace was a much shorter leather cord. At the end of the cord, falling just at the vee of her shirt was an amulet. Dean would have recognized it as the one he had thrown into a hotel trash bin years ago. She wore a trio of leather and bead bracelets on her right wrist and on her left a large, men's style watch.

Lyria's demeanor had undergone the most dramatic change. When in Dean and Sam's presence her manner had been distinguished by both a demureness and an odd stillness. Now she was once again as she had been ever since Benny had first met her, a creature seeming in perpetual motion. Even as her laughter slowed and then tapered off, she was bounding to her feet, shaking out her body and hair and bouncing on her heels in what Benny thought of as her usual expression of life-love, her unending joy in just being.

Lyria leapt lightly up onto one of the long tables in the room as another might step up a curb and then dropped down to sit on it and look at Benny, trying to appear serious. One look at him though and she started giggling again – it took her a few seconds to be able to communicate reasonably effectively. "I'm sorry, Poppy, I know I try your patience. Thanks for backing my play anyway."

Benny just waited. He had learned the value of just letting Lyria reveal herself in her own way. It was almost always endearing and always, always entertaining.

Lyria sighed once and smiled, then said, "I know I should have cued you up beforehand but it seemed to me if I had to choose between arguing about it after and arguing about it both before and after, the former would waste less time. You know how I feel about wasted time." Benny knew. He also appreciated her talent for ruthless decision making.

But aloud he said only, "It was easy enough to tell how you wanted to play it; what I don't get is what the point of the whole thing was. Why did we come here, really? And if we were going to come, why not just tell them the truth?"

Lyria didn't respond for a moment, just looked around the room with a slight smile. Then she looked at Benny and said, "I was 'pretexting.' The Winchesters would have understood that." Benny said that was fine but he'd like to understand it as well. Lyria laughed and Benny thought, not for the first time that her laughter was a strange and beautiful combination of a child's delight and a barmaid's chuckle, both deep and high and completely infectious. He worked at not letting it distract him. He felt there was an important truth lurking just beneath the laughter.

Lyria seemed to be deliberately misunderstanding his query. "I know, Poppy; it really is bizarre. They have this weird affection for taking perfectly good nouns and turning them into verbs. 'Pretexting' as they call it is all about projecting a persona in order to achieve an objective. They do it all the time in their work as hunters. I was just returning the favor."

Lyria was swinging her legs as she spoke and began absentmindedly pointing at the various bookcases which ringed the room. Each time she did, a book would pop out, fly over and land in her left hand. She would gently bounce it for a few seconds then either fling it back to its place in the bookcase or hold out her right hand where what looked like an exact copy would appear. Then the original was returned to where it belonged and she would drop the copy next to her on the table. This never interrupted her explanation.

"I needed to come here for a couple of reasons. Because of its warding and shielding, this is the only place it wouldn't become immediately obvious to both angels and demons that we were occupying the same space as the Winchester brothers. As you know, when I met with Crowley and Hannah a few weeks ago to set the terms of engagement, I demanded they guarantee Sam and Dean Winchester's safety. They agreed, but that only holds as long as the boys stay off the board. That was Crowley's addendum, by the way. But I had to admit it was reasonable."

This reminded Benny of one of the things that had been vexing him all evening. "I know you refuse to form an alliance with Dean and his brother, which is why it's that much more surprising you insisted on coming here. But if your plan was only to drop in and then out again, why the elaborate ruse? I got wore out just watching all of that."

Lyria laughed again although just briefly and appeared to be done flying books around the room, she instead began running her fingers along the chains of her necklaces. She spoke a little hesitantly. "Poppy, one of my preoccupations over the many years I spent watching this world is how power is used, or more often, misused. Angels, demons, humans, all the same in this one way: the more power they possess, the more damage they inflict upon each other. This has terrified me. I knew by the time I came here I would be extremely powerful." She paused for a moment and drew her legs up and tucked them under her to sit cross-legged on the table, looking down at Benny as he sipped his drink and let her work through her thoughts.

"Uncle Ian says that aside from him and God, I'm the most powerful being in this world right now, and if anyone would have a handle on that it would be Uncle Ian. After all," she grinned, "his day job is as Big Daddy Reaper." Benny just grunted and gulped a little brandy.

"By the way," she added, "I checked in with him last week to make sure he was getting over being pissed at the boys. I can't keep my promise if Death insists on smiting them just because Dean tried to kill him a couple of months ago."

Benny frowned over that. "I thought it wasn't actually Death, just a trick being played on Dean; isn't that what you told me?"

"Sure" Lyria replied. "That didn't matter at all to Uncle Ian, since Dean didn't know it was a trick and was perfectly willing to gank him. But I calmed Uncle back down and took him to Chicago for pizza. Have I mentioned how much I enjoy pizza? It is an extremely efficient food. Oh, oh, and I got Uncle Ian to agree to get me a really hot reaper when my time comes, in case I haven't gotten around to having sex. Isn't that awesome? I have to tell you, it really relieved my mind."

"Okay" said Benny. Lyria sometimes made it hard for him to pretend that they were just a rather unconventional little family going about their familial business. Talking about the actual Horseman of Death as "Uncle Ian" just gave him the creeps. So did talking about Lyria having sex. "So, the two of you discussed the nature of power?" he prompted. "Sounds rather philosophical." Lyria smiled fondly at Benny.

"It really was a lot like talking things over with you, Poppy. I think you and Uncle Ian would really get along." Benny not only sincerely doubted that but had no interest in exploring the possibility. Something about the twinkle in Lyria's eyes suggested she knew what he was thinking. She went on, "In fact, after he got over his mad at Dean and Sam he took the same position you have, that I should recruit them. Despite how annoying Uncle Ian finds them, he recognizes what he refers to as their 'haphazard and inexplicable ingenuity'."

Benny laughed. It was a perfect phrase to describe his experiences with Dean. "So, did you shut 'Uncle Ian' down like you did me, princess?"

Lyria sighed, jumped to her feet and began to pace up and down the three long tables, jumping back and forth absentmindedly. "I'll tell you what I told him. I'm playing a game of tri-level chess here. Do you know what you get when you add the Winchester brothers to a game of tri-level chess?" She did not wait for Benny to respond. "You get a chessboard on the floor and two weeks spent looking for all your chess pieces until you finally find the last rook stuck up in a rafter and you have NO idea how it got there. The Winchesters equal chaos. It works for them. It will not work for my campaign, even were I willing to risk them, which I am not." She spoke with a slight edge at this point, recognizing perhaps that it was a little problematic that she was on the opposite side of a line from two men whose judgement she greatly respected.

At this point Lyria seemed to suddenly realize she had strayed from her point, a regular and frequently bewildering habit of hers. Benny always thought it was a completely understandable tic for someone who had had no one to talk with for her first twenty years. There was often a meandering, stream of consciousness form to her conversation. Benny didn't mind, in fact he had become fond of this feature of her personality and just smiled encouragingly at her. She dropped back down to a sitting position on the table, once again swinging her legs and worrying the chains of her necklaces.

"But my original point, before I got distracted thinking about Uncle Ian, is that after watching all the failures of power over the years I realized that as a being of power I have two imperatives; the first obligation of power is restraint, the second obligation is wisdom.

I could have popped in here last night, done anything and everything and then just whisked away their memories. I didn't need their permission and neither they nor any other human will ever have any reliable defense against me. But God sent me as their Champion; I cannot fight for them if I don't respect them. I promised myself before I ever stepped into this world that I would only use as much of my power as was necessary to achieve a goal. With Sam and Dean, I mostly just used what they would have used, guile and cleverness. Power was secondary.

You see, the Winchester brothers have the hearts and virtues of heroes but they have the flaws of ordinary men and I have made quite a study of them. It is human to exploit flaws and weaknesses to acquire your goal; this was among my first lessons.

Take Dean. Shove a piece of rebar through him and he'll scarcely utter a word, but dude gets a head cold and he'll whine for a week." Benny laughed. Lyria continued, "He thinks all bodily functions are funny - when we all know only about half are," here she grinned at Benny. "He actually thinks Busty Asian Beauties and the menu at Biggerson's count as reading and that Anime porn is an art form. He refers to his Casa Erotica DVDs as his 'foreign film' collection.

Then we have Sam. If you shot him all he'd do is dig out the bullet, pour some rye over the wound and stitch it up. But if he gets a little sleep-deprived, boy's a gigantic, and I do mean gigantic baby. He's also just a little too happy to correct other people's grammar. Worst of all, dude has an Enya tape. And not just to get a woman in bed; he actually likes it." Benny interrupted at this point to ask what or who 'Enya' was. Lyria replied, "That's an excellent question, Poppy. I'm not sure anyone really knows." She looked thoughtful and added, "I'm thinking it's Irish and it's supposed to be some kind of music." She shuddered. "It's horrible. Boy has tragic taste in music."

Benny shook his head. "You keep calling them boys; you realize they're quite a bit older than you." Lyria just looked at him. "You know better, Poppy. Yes, parts of me are twenty and parts of me are only a few weeks old, but other parts of me are quite ancient. To me, Sam and Dean will always be 'the boys'."

After a few reflective moments, Lyria resumed her explanation. "So, the point I was trying to get to is I know them well enough to know that within their mental topsoil is a nice slice of sexism. Sam thinks he's more evolved than Dean but really he's just more polite about it. I factored all that into a persona which would achieve my immediate objectives; reduce their defenses and make me as unmemorable as possible. To the Winchesters, women matter as something other than victims if they fall into one of three categories; potential sexual/romantic partners such as Lisa or Amelia; family, a la Ellen, Jo or Charlie; and enemies like Rowena. I needed to be unappealing sexually, uninteresting to them as a person, and non-threatening. So I put on a 'Liesl' dress, was non-descript in my appearance and manner, small and still and quiet. Just the type of female they'd help in a heartbeat and would forget five minutes later. I just used cleverness and knowledge as they would have done. That's reasonable, right?"

Benny just looked at her. She shrugged. "All right. I admit I threw a little "these aren't the droids you're looking for" at them to ensure they wouldn't spend the entire time we were here asking questions and looking us over. I needed them to be incurious and accepting in order to do my job. But that's my point, really. I used the power I needed to, just not all I could have."

Benny grinned, then asked, "What's a Liesl dress?" Lyria sighed, "I don't expect you to get most of the pop culture references but not even The Sound of Music? Really?"

Benny circled around to his original point. "Why 'pretext' at all? Why the huge charade? Why not just tell them the truth?"

Lyria jumped up again into a standing position and, without answering, opened the locket shaped like a book. She walked up and down the three tables as out of the locket flew what looked like page after page of a journal; some pages with text, some with pictures or charts or drawings. Each page was weightless and slightly translucent, and drifted in the air around her, moving as new pages appeared or as the gesture of her hand or the tilt of her head or a flicker of her eyes indicated they should.

Benny was not planning to let those questions just hang there as well but he settled back into his chair, picked up his Armagnac and took a sip, waiting for his silence to get to her.

With her back to Benny, Lyria said sadly, "Poppy, a month ago, Dean shot a young boy in the head, a human boy. The boy came from bad people, true, but he had yet to choose his path and Dean took that choice away from him by blowing his brains out. He killed him because of his family. This is not a man you tell that your grand pappy is Satan.

"Okay," Benny said, putting his shock at this description of Dean aside for the moment. "But what about, what do you call it, the prime rule?" Lyria scolded him with a look. "Poppy, you know that's not right, you're just messin' with me now. The correct term is 'Prime Directive' and that doesn't apply here."

Benny took issue with that. "If the 'Prime Directive' is that you do not interfere with the free will of humans, how is what you've done here consistent with that? And if you quote Emerson at me I will start throwing things at you." Lyria laughed. Suddenly, her clothing changed to a red Star Trek security uniform and she was sporting Vulcan ears. Smiling as she touched one of her Spock ears she admitted, "I wore these for six months before I discovered Vulcans weren't actually real. It's too bad; this world could use a few Vulcans."

Benny was neither amused nor deterred. "Explain yourself. And let's dispense with all the cryptic pronouncements and useless cultural references, okay?"

Lyria resumed her regular appearance and answered. "You never really knew Sam, Poppy, but he used to be a lot like you, thoughtful and empathetic. Except . . . . In the last year his humanity has just been evaporating, everything he has left got so focused on saving Dean that he did some things he would never have done when he was younger.

The truth is, Poppy, they'd become feral. Not so much men as animals wounded and stuck in a bloody, inescapable trap in their own minds. So no," and here her voice became diamond hard, "they didn't get to choose; they got to get better. It's okay for them to be Batman; it's not okay for them to devolve into Walter White." She waved dismissively at Benny's look of exasperated incomprehension.

Her tone calmed a bit. "Besides, do you know how many people they've told to just sit down and shut up because they knew better; they had the skills to deal with the situation and should just be trusted to do it? 423. Seriously, I counted once. So, I'm just that bitch named 'Payback' and she always gets you, sooner or later."

"What does that even mean?" asked Benny. Lyria was suddenly exasperated. "Don't you get it, Poppy? It's a saying, 'Payback's a bitch' and I . . . . Never mind, it stops being funny if I have to explain it to you."

Benny gently asked, "Are you sure it was funny to begin with, princess?" Lyria just produced a nerf ball out of thin air and threw it at him.

For a minute, Lyria stood there, turning the bracelets on her wrist one by one. Then she twirled her finger around the snow white braid at her temple and pointed the end of it toward Benny. "Have you any idea how toxic the boys had to be to turn my hair white? Between the trips to Hell and Purgatory, the Mark of Cain, angel possession, demon conversion, the tablet trials, etc. ad nauseum, Dean and Sam were smashed to bits. This was like no other healing I've ever done or will do; it was more like what Dean would call flushing their radiators. There was so much supernatural, spiritual, psychic, emotional gunk junking up their engines, it's crazy that their 'engines' were working at all.

Their memories, emotions, failures and regrets belong to them; it would have been wrong to touch or try to alter those at all. I concentrated on absorbing the toxins that have been inflicted on them, extracting the poisons that had been building up inside their hearts and psyches. Other than that I just gave them a more intense version of what I've been doing every once in a while for about ten years now; restoring their resiliency, enhancing their ability to get up again and keep going."

Benny was shaken at her last statement. "I was sure you said the only time you ever left your box before a few weeks ago was when you met John Winchester and promised him you would look after his sons. You were beaten for three days for that!"

Oddly, Lyria smiled as she remembered. "Oh, yes. Poor Arene. She was so terrified at what I'd done. I still feel bad about that." Benny spit out a vulgarity Lyria had never heard before but promised herself she'd try out at the earliest possibility.

"There's no point hating Arene. She understands only pain; how to inflict it and how to ease it. She really had no other way of communicating her fear. And it worked; I understood the seriousness of what I'd done and how terrible it would be if anyone discovered me before it was time and I never did again leave my box – at least not physically.

I taught myself to do a kind of psychic projection. I didn't do it often, only if one of them seemed especially to need a little boost. I would send some music as they slept, enough to keep them going until they could get through whatever epic struggle they faced. They never knew anything about it. Just like they're never going to know anything about this.

They're going to wake up tomorrow noticing nothing really different. In a week or two, Dean will notice his right knee doesn't seem to be going out on him anymore and Sam may wonder why his acid reflux seems to have disappeared. By that time it won't occur to them to connect their unusually optimistic outlook and their sense of physical wellbeing to our visit. Their happiness in helping others and solving puzzles will return to them as suddenly as they lost it in the morass of bad decisions and worse situations they've been dealing with for the last couple of years.

Lyria crossed her arms and looked into the distance. "I got them 80% there. The rest will be up to them. They've ripped the Hell out of their relationship the past couple of years; there's barely a connection left and they're angrier with each other than I've ever known them to be. That's going to have to be fixed." She laughed a little and twinkled at him saying, "I think a couple of hours beating the shit out of each other should take care of it. It usually does."

Lyria put her hands on her hips and scuffed a boot lightly across the tabletop as she continued her thought. "Once they're back on track maybe they'll make some move toward finding mates." Benny lifted both eyebrows in surprise. "Poppy, they're getting rather old you know. If their lives were a TV show we'd say they'd been Bonanza'd." She grimaced.

Benny was pleased. "Hey, I know that one." Lyria smiled at him with affection. "Of course you do, Poppy. The adventures of Adam, Hoss, and Little Joe, who year after year managed to lose every woman who crossed their paths." All of a sudden Lyria was sporting Ellie Mae pigtails under a cowboy hat, wearing a checked, gingham cowgirl shirt and talking around the straw between her teeth.

Her face took on a pained expression and she took the straw out and rubbed her lip where it had stabbed her. With an excessive Texas drawl she continued, "some girly was always dyin' of the consumption, done in by a stray bullet or runnin' from the law." She reverted to her regular self and smiled a little sadly. "After a while it just got ridiculous. Nobody's luck is that bad. These boys have been alone long enough. It's time for them to start families. This world needs all the Winchesters it can get."

She nodded decisively and then returned to her journal pages. Standing before them, she extended her arms out to her sides and then raised them. As she did so, music began playing. Then she began dancing down the lengths of the three tables, easily moving from one to another without looking down or even seeming to consider the gaps. Benny enjoyed watching her work this way and knew he'd find out a lot more about her state of mind by paying attention to the music and the dancing.

Song after song pulsed through the room while Lyria arranged and rearranged the pages, every once in a while flinging one to stick to a far wall. She air-jammed her way down the room and back again, playing air guitar to Wheel in the Sky and drums to Eye of the Tiger. During Pat Benatar's Heartbreaker she just swished her arms through the air like a slightly loopy conductor, spinning in time to the music while whirling page after page around her; her feet sliding and stomping across the tables in an intricate and intimate connection with the music that Benny found quite beautiful. Another might have pointed out Lyria's dancing wasn't classically graceful and he'd have been right about that. Her dancing was just a little too exuberant for true grace and beauty, too full of a child's joy in moving in time with all of the sound around her and the feelings within her.

Benny waited through Runnin' Down a Dream but when the beginning strains of Separate Ways flowed, Benny decided that more direct means were necessary if he wanted to get to the nub of the matter. He threw the stopper from the Armagnac decanter at her back and was not surprised when she put a hand behind her and caught it without missing a beat.

She did stop the music, turn around and raise an eyebrow at him. "Yes, Poppy?"

"Princess, why are we still here?"

Lyria turned around in a circle on top of the table then threw out her arms. "Poppy, look around you! There's no other place like this on Earth! There are books, manuscripts, journals detailing centuries of supernatural beings and occurrences. You could study them for the next hundred years and never finish. Isn't that marvelous?" There was an odd note to Lyria's enthusiasm, as though she was trying to convince herself that it was as marvelous as she was pointing out to him. Cautiously, he agreed that it was all, well, marvelous.

Lyria continued. "I know Dean is a brother to you and in time I know you would feel the same connection to Sam. He is a scholar just like you and you would enjoy discussing and debating." She waved an arm expansively. She was talking now with the slightly manic aspect of someone trying to sell a timeshare. "Plus, this has to be the safest place on the planet right now. Really, I can't imagine a better home . . . you know . . . . if you were looking for one."

Benny looked at Lyria, his head tilted, his brandy snifter halfway between the table and his mouth. Finally, he understood the point of this whole roundabout hour long discourse. He smiled at her, lifted his other arm and said softly, "Come here princess, sit by me."

Lyria, her eyes now a little shiny, jumped down lightly from the table, spun around and dropped down to sit on the floor next to Benny, laying her head against his leg. He dropped his arm to stroke her hair. From the earliest days, when neither of them was sure Lyria or her sanity would survive, this brought them the ultimate comfort and connection. Lyria sighed, once, then made a pillow of her arms on his left leg and dropped her head on it, closing her eyes as Benny continued to stroke her hair softly. He finally spoke, slowly, seriously, so she would understand how important this was.

"Princess. I know that one day you will have to leave me; I've known that from the beginning. But please understand, I will never, ever leave you."

Lyria opened her eyes; there was such sadness in them, such pain. She made sure not to let Benny see. "Poppy, I love you too. But as anyone will tell you, there's no point in getting attached to something like me. I want you to be safe. You would be safe here. I want you to be loved and there is love here." She rubbed her cheek unselfconsciously against his leg.

Benny decided it was time to change the emotional tone of this conversation. "Okay, I'm gonna take this down to its basic components. We're family. You're my home, not this place. That's it; this subject is done forever." He paused, smiled, and quoted, "'Wither thou goest, I will go. Where thou lodgest, I will lodge. Thy people will be my people. Thy god will be my god.'"

Lyria laughed a little shakily and smiled. "Poppy, quoting Ruth? How progressive of you. And just so you know, my god? He's really grumpy and appears to be moonlighting these days as an alarm clock." She beamed. She was so happy she literally floated up back toward the table.

Benny grinned as he watched her and took a long drink from his glass. "Now, could you please finish up whatever that mess is" he waved toward Lyria's journal pages, "so we can get going?" Lyria laughed, flipped over twice in mid-air and landed on her feet on top of the nearest table. She waved her arms and the pages started dancing – at the same time the music began again.

Benny's grin grew wider. The music was now Kenny Loggins' Footloose. Benny knew neither the song title nor the artist, but he knew that this was the song Lyria danced to when she was happiest and he loved to watch her slide across a room, turning and dipping and bouncing to the music as though it was inside her. She was pure joy and the greatest peace he had ever known in his long, long life was watching her personify that joy.

As she danced, Lyria started tossing pages from her "virtual journal" against the far wall. They arranged and rearranged themselves as others shrunk down and disappeared back into her locket. Within minutes, there were two sigils side-by-side on the wall. The one on the left was a stylized Aquarian star with an additional symbol in the upper right and lower left quadrants. The one on the right was a half-moon with symbols attached to each end and a "L" inscribed within it. Lyria looked at them for a second, smiled and clapped her hands. She then lifted each and Benny saw she was bleeding from both palms. She ran the length of the table, took a running jump at the wall as though going for a layup, and slammed a palm at the very center of each sigil then landed lightly on the floor before them. She put her hands on her hips, looked back and forth between the sigils and nodded in satisfaction.

"Okay, Poppy, almost there. I'm going to write a note so the boys will know how to use the sigils and then we'll take off." She sat at the table now and wrote rapidly across a piece of parchment she had found inside one of the books sitting on the table. She addressed the note to Sam and Dean and placed it inside Sam's laptop where she knew it would be quickly found.

After that was done she picked up the books she had copied from the Men of Letters' archive and a large duffle appeared on the table in front of her. She tossed the books into it, looked a little absently into its dark contents and said, as if to herself, "Come on Poppy. We've got work to do." She shook her head, smiled a little wryly and was silent for a moment.

Benny held up a hand as she approached, looked her square in the eyes and asked, "It's up to you, but are you sure, child?" She just smiled a little sadly at him and leaned in until her forehead rested against his chest. "They have their work and I have mine, Poppy."

She then grabbed Benny's hand in one of hers and the duffle in the other, smiled at him and said, "Stop dawdling Poppy. It's time we went and found Van."

Benny had a moment to wonder why they needed a van, then they were gone.

* * *

Later that morning, Dean wandered into the common room with a cup of coffee to see Sam sitting in front of his laptop reading from a piece of paper. He asked, "What's up?" Sam didn't say anything, just handed the piece of paper to him. Dean read it aloud,

 _ **Dear Dean and Sam,**_

 _ **Thank you for allowing Poppy and me to stay with you last night. We appreciate your kindness and hospitality. Sorry to leave so early but duty calls me and Poppy likes to spend as much time in the sunshine as possible these days.**_

 _ **I wanted to leave you a couple of tokens of my gratitude and Poppy's affection. I think you will find the two sigils we left for you on the far wall useful. I'm told I have a talent for them.**_

 _ **The large one on the left containing the Aquarian Star is a boomerang sigil. It contains my blood and you each should add yours. If at any time you are in danger, just recreate the sigil wherever you are, including some of your blood, touch it and say the bunker's name. The sigil will immediately bounce you back here. It's a little intricate to recreate in the midst of a dustup, so you might think about creating a stencil to take with you on your travels.**_

At this point Dean looked up at Sam, nodding thoughtfully; it was an excellent idea. Dean began reading again.

 _ **Sam, the second, smaller sigil you can think of as a software upgrade. The bunker is warded against any sort of evil the Men of Letters knew of, this new one protects you from any supernatural force you wish to exclude which has been created since the Men of Letters were destroyed. In other words, this sigil enables you to ward your home against, well, against me. You should know that your home is just your own. Again, just add a bit of your and Dean's blood to the sigil and it will be activated. No supernatural force you don't wish to have entry will be able to enter.**_

 _ **I hope these tokens find favor with you. I hope you have many more years working in your 'family business.' Be well, fight fiercely. We shall not meet again but you will see Poppy by and by.**_

 _ **Yours, Lyria**_

 _ **P.S. I would think it is obvious, but in case it is not, just wanted to let you know that the bunker's name is 'Bat Cave.'**_

Dean put the letter down, looked over at the sigils and said, "What the fuck?"

* * *

 **CHAPTER 3**

 **Madison's Pub, Chokeberry, Wisconsin, one month later, 8:00 p.m.**

Lyria sat on a small round table next to a pillar on the edge of the bar's dance floor. She was having an awesome day. Work was going well, she was pleasantly buzzed on tequila shots with beer chasers and at that precise moment her lover was paying some long-overdue attention to a point right below her left ear, sending delightful shivers through her body. It still amazed Lyria all the sensations aroused when the various parts of two people's bodies intersected. Friction was a perk humans did not adequately appreciate. She swung her legs and wrapped them around her boyfriend's legs, stuck her hands in his coat pockets and drew him even closer.

In décor and smells, Madison's was indistinguishable from thousands of similar places spread throughout no-name towns throughout the mid-west. The floors were sticky, the felt on the pool tables was worn in numerous places and all the furniture bore the scars of having been tossed around in countless Saturday night scuffles. The lighting was sparse, either from cheapness or to mask the down-at-the-mouth atmosphere. A long, dilapidated wooden bar took up one side of the main room; at one end was the entrance, at the other a raised platform for live music with a small dance floor just beneath it. The stage was set up for the 70s/80s cover band currently between sets. The rest of the room was filled with two ancient pool tables near the front door and a randomly arranged and mismatched bunch of large and small circular tables, each with two or four chairs. Each table held a lit, pear-shaped glass candle holder encased in plastic mesh and most also had a small bowl of generic chex mix, heavy on pretzel bits and cheese crackers.

Like all its kind, Madison's existed to lubricate the sad, tired and unfaithful and should have had the customary faintly desperate ambience. Instead, it was an oddly happy little watering hole; there was a lot of laughter and affection displayed among the customers and between the customers and the employees who wended among them dropping or picking up the usual rations of chips, beers and cocktails. Lyria herself looked and was dressed much as she had been the night she'd visited the Bunker, although now she sported two white braids down the right side of her face rather than just the one. She looked around her and smiled contentedly.

In a fraction of a fraction of a second all that changed. Her Spidey senses caught the moment Sam and Dean Winchester stepped into the pub. For a single moment her face reflected a terrible grief. That was buried as quickly as it came and replaced by an expression of severe irritation, conveyed by spitting out, "Son of a bitch!" Her lover lifted his head and sent her a mildly enquiring look. In response, she took his face between her hands and turned it until he saw the new arrivals. After a second, Cass echoed Lyria as he saw his two closest friends in the last place he wanted or expected them. "Son of a bitch!"

Currently unaware of the eruption they'd caused just by walking in the door, Sam and Dean looked around the bar until they saw Cass and Lyria, he with his arms around her and his head now inclined so his forehead touched hers, she sitting on a table, her jeans clad legs wrapped around his and her hands in the pockets of his trench coat. The brothers stood at the entrance for a moment taking stock of the situation. Dean spoke first. "Isn't that?" Sam replied, "I think so." Dean again, "What the Hell is he doing with her? I mean, it's not like she's hot or anything." Sam frowned, "She wouldn't have to be if she was a siren or a succubus or something. I guess we better go say 'hi' and figure it all out."

They made their way over to the couple as Lyria looked over at them again and Cass turned toward the door with one arm still around her waist. Sam bumped a table to his left and paused for a second to apologize to the woman seated there; she smiled, nodded but turned back around to her drink almost immediately. Sam noticed two things in the part of his mind not focused on Lyria and Cass. One, she seemed to be flying solo and, two, she was both attractive and faintly familiar. As he and Dean approached the now frowning couple, Sam put the random blonde out of his mind. "Hey Cass, how's it hangin'?" Dean grinned and spoke heartily, as though there was nothing particularly remarkable about running into Castiel in the middle of nowhere Middle America. "And, Lyria, isn't it?" His eyes drilled into Cass's. "You remember Lyria, right Sam? And Cass? We mentioned meeting her when she came to the bunker with Benny – but you didn't say anything about knowing her too. Explanation?" Dean's smile did not fool any of the others. He was irritated.

Cass's brow furrowed and he paused as though working on framing an appropriate answer. Lyria beat Cass to a response, turning to him, laying both hands on his chest, looking up at him in distress and saying, with a completely sincere note of apology in her voice, "Mon Coeur, I am so sorry." He frowned in incomprehension. She frowned back at him. "Apparently, I'm not hot. I swear I didn't know. I really think Poppy should have mentioned it; maybe I would have been able to do something about it. This is terrible (giving the word a French pronunciation). I may have lowered your status among the men." She turned away from Cass and directed her frown at Sam and Dean. "This is correct, oui?" Dean looked thoughtful; Sam looked wildly embarrassed.

Cass was confused and exasperated. "What are you talking about? Who said you're not hot?" Lyria pointed to Dean. Cass rolled his eyes. "Dean's a jackass; don't pay attention to him." "Oh, I know that," Lyria replied airily. Dean looked back and forth between them. He couldn't decide if he was more offended that Cass had called him a jackass or that Lyria had dismissed him. Lyria added, "But Sam's not usually a jackass and he agreed with Dean." She looked a little reproachfully at Sam. Sam looked like he'd been used a little too long as a tennis ball.

Cass also looked at Sam for a moment as though he should have known better, then turned Lyria to face him. Holding both of her hands in his, he spoke rapidly to her in Enochian. As he spoke she began to grin and by the time he had finished she was laughing out loud; she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his throat, laughing all the while. Cass laughed a little himself, wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on the top of her head.

Sam surreptitiously turned on the recording program on his phone. He was teaching himself Enochian; maybe they'd say something else that he could practice translating. He also noticed that while Cass was speaking the blonde at the nearby table had chuckled as if she understood.

Dean was getting steadily more pissed. He didn't like being left out of their conversation and he certainly wasn't going to stand for people speaking in tongues around him and not clueing him in. Lyria's laughter slowed and she turned back around toward him and Sam, Cass's arms still around her, now from the back. Dean looked at her. "So? What was all that jibber jabber about?"

"Well, I don't know what 'jibber jabber' is, but I can tell you what Cass said if you really want me to." Her eyes sparkled a little devilishly. Dean nodded abruptly. With a grin, "Okay, well, it sounds a little more elegant in Enochian but essentially he said that since he's been a walking hard-on since we met he believes my 'hotness' is sufficiently established. Oh, and he said I should not be listening to an evaluation of female attractiveness from a man who rarely has one for long." She looked a little apologetic as she relayed the last bit. Cass cast his eyes toward the ceiling, not wanting to meet Dean's eyes. Dean went back to looking offended; Sam choked trying to swallow a laugh. Dean crossed his arms, looked at Lyria with no expression and asked abruptly, "What are you?"

Lyria didn't answer directly. Instead, she held out her hand toward Dean. A flask from one of the interior pockets of his jacket flew into her hand. She took a sip from it, then coughed for several seconds.

Dean smirked. "Not used to whiskey?" Lyria mirrored his smirk, gave the flask a shake then tossed it back to him. "I don't know what that was but it wasn't whiskey. Now it's whiskey." Dean took off the cap and sniffed. He raised his brows then took a sip. His low end, just up from rotgut whiskey had been replaced with some extremely smooth Glenlivet. "Thanks" he said. She held out her hand toward his jacket again and when she had retrieved his other flask she drank briefly from it then smiled and said, "St. Cristobel's, excellent choice for holy water." She smiled at Cass. "They have a wonderful choir that does Godspell every spring."

Lyria then walked over to a large empty table on the edge of the dance floor, to the left of the one with Sam's blonde. It held a bottle of Patrón, a plate of limes, some shot glasses and a salt shaker. Sam, Dean and Cass followed her. She poured a shot into a small glass and picked up a lime wedge. She took Cass's right hand and turned it palm up. He looked confused but she just smiled at him, wrinkled her nose as though to say, 'go with it' and rubbed the lime across his palm then sprinkled some salt. She picked up the shot of tequila and while never breaking eye contact with Cass, lifted his hand and licked the salt, drank the shot and sucked on the lime wedge in one erotic sweep. Cass grinned stupidly back at her. Dean scraped his thumb across his jaw and behind his hand said quietly to Sam, "Well, she might be a little hot."

Still without speaking, Lyria looked at Sam then held out her hand again until the silver dagger inside his jacket flew straight at her. Sam and Dean held their breath but the dagger stopped just short of Lyria's hand then delicately carved the letter 'L' into her right palm which then was circled by a stylized 'C' leaving a thin line of blood in its grooves. Lyria flipped the dagger back to Sam and then held out her hand to Dean for inspection. He brushed his finger over the wound, transferring a little of the blood to his finger. As he did so, the wound closed as though it had never existed.

"Okay, I get it, no reaction to holy water, silver, salt, blood's red, so not a demon or Leviathan. But also not a human, or not completely. Don't think me and Sam don't know you whammied us when you and Benny were at the bunker so we wouldn't ask any questions. I want to know what you did with Benny. And how did you even hear Sam and me talkin' about you when we were all the way over there?" gesturing toward the door.

Lyria, "I know that overlistening is not polite but it's not like I can help what I hear."

Dean, "What the Hell is 'overlistening'? That's not a word. Are you trying to say 'eavesdropping'?"

Lyria, becoming annoyed. "No, I'm not trying to say 'eavesdropping,' what does that even mean? I was overlistening and that is why I overheard you. It makes perfect sense. 'Eavesdropping' does not make sense." Her French accent was getting thicker as her annoyance grew.

Dean felt very confident in his position. "Well, I'm sorry, sister. There is no such word as 'overlisten'; it's idiotic."

Now Lyria was enraged. She crossed her arms, glared and leaned toward Dean. She sneered, "Exactly how many topics are you the last word on? You judge female hotness and now decide what are and are not words? It must be such a burden to carry all of that responsibility . . . and don't call me sister!" She uncrossed her arms, set her hands on her hips and snapped at him, "Is there anything else you need to pass judgment on?"

Dean crossed his own arms and leaned toward Lyria. He was confused and uncertain which were two of his least favorite states of being. A fight was just what he needed. "Yeah, as a matter of fact" he said, flicking a glance up at the two white braids framing the right side of her face, "those braids are pretty stupid; and what girl dyes her hair white?"

Lyria fumed. "Are you a complete moron?! These are the most badass, boss braids imaginable, especially with le beads. Everyone says so. And they're not dyed; that's just their color."

Dean smirked, "I am definitely more of an expert on 'badass' than some teenage girl whatever-you-are and the words 'badass' and 'braid' are never, ever used in the same sentence."

At this point Sam thought he'd better intervene before one or both started throwing punches. He frowned at Dean and hissed at him to just shut up a minute. Smiling gently at Lyria and touching her arm he said, "Sorry about Dean. It was a long drive and he hasn't eaten in a while. And you're right, 'overlistening' makes much more sense than 'eavesdropping' now that I think about it. Maybe we could all just sit down for a few minutes and chat?"

Lyria didn't respond for a minute, just blinked a little at Sam. Then she laughed in delight, and, turning back to Cass said, "It's vintage Sam and Dean Winchester, isn't it?" She smiled beatifically at the three of them. She gestured at Dean, "Dean is being a total argumentative dick, probably to manage his emotional or social confusion," then gesturing toward Sam she continued, "and Sam's using his 'gentle the hysterical virgin' voice trying to smooth the situation out."

She frowned at Sam. "I resent that, by the way. I'm not hysterical; I'm just angry. And I haven't been a virgin since . . ." she tilted her head and looked the question at Cass. He looked thoughtful for a second, then contributed, "Tuesday."

She looked back at Sam. ". . . Since Tuesday." She grinned smugly at Dean. "We blew out all the lightbulbs in a three block radius. I bet you never did that."

Dean couldn't help himself, he was impressed. And he looked it.

All of a sudden, Lyria exclaimed, "Oh, oh, oh!" and pulled her cell phone out of an interior pocket of her vest. She punched a couple of buttons then put it up to her ear. The guys watched her. Cass was still looking at her with a besotted expression that she returned as she grabbed his hand with her left one. Sam and Dean shared a glance and a shrug.

"Poppy, I've been Winchestered!" She listened to his response then took the phone from her ear, glared at it and banged it three times hard against the table, whap, whap, whap! She held it up to her mouth and yelled, "'I told you so' is not helpful, Poppy! By the way, Dean wants to know what I, quote unquote, 'did with you' and he also said I'm not hot." Her voice was rather whiny on that last bit.

Dean rolled his eyes. Lyria listened to Benny for several seconds then said, "I know he's a dick, Poppy, but Sam's not usually a dick and he agreed with Dean." She threw Sam another reproachful look and Sam lifted his arms as though to say he was sorry. Dean looked disgusted with all of them.

Lyria was still speaking, "They hit the door at 8:05. Who won the pool?" After he responded she took the phone from her ear again, looked at it in disbelief then spit out, "are you kidding me with this shit, Poppy? That's the third one in a row she's won. She's got to be cheating . . . and when I find out how I'm giving her donkey ears again. And this time I'm making them permanent!" She was shouting again. She then listened for a moment and Benny seemed to calm her somewhat. "Oui, cher Poppy." She was silent again. "That is a very good question . . . We will see you when we see you." She turned off the phone and replaced it in her vest pocket with a thoughtful frown. Cass looked inquiringly at her and she tilted her hand toward him and smiled a little wistfully.

"Poppy says, 'work now, female snit later.'" She smiled. "He is very wise about such things. He also reminded me, Cass, that they (pointing her thumb at Sam and Dean) are your closest friends. They're also total ruiners but they don't know what they did and they didn't do it on purpose so I'm not allowed to be angry with them about it." As she made the last statement she looked steadily at Cass and seemed for a moment much older and terribly sad. Cass just looked steadily at her with no expression whatsoever, seeming to be waiting for her cue.

Lyria looked at Sam and Dean for a couple of seconds then started to pace a bit as though thinking something out. She said, "Poppy asked how you found us and I think that is an excellent question." She smiled at them but it wasn't a friendly smile; it put Dean in mind of the stars of any of a number of shows that aired during Shark Week. She then whipped around towards Cass and with an expression of extreme suspicion abruptly barked, "What did you do?"

Before he could begin an answer she held up a hand to stop him. "No, let me see if I can figure it out." She began to pace again, her left hand on her hip, tapping two fingers on her right hand against her upper lip in thought. She looked at Cass again and asked, "When did you see them last?" As Cass seemed to be considering the response for longer than warranted and looked a little shamefaced she just shook her head. "Never mind. They called didn't they? They called and called and you, being you" she looked at him with fond exasperation, "thought you could play them, didn't you?" She waved a response away as he opened his mouth to speak. "Babe. When are you going to get this? You are a horrible liar. They are very good at spotting bad liars because they are exceptionally good liars." She walked over to him, linked her arms around his neck and gave him a long kiss, then rubbed her cheek against his affectionately. He hugged her tight, closed his eyes and sighed. Sam and Dean looked at each other. Whatever 'this' was, it was not straightforward; it was obviously quite complicated on both sides.

Lyria stepped away, squeezing Cass's hand as she did so. She walked back over to Sam and Dean and seemed to consider them for a second, her head tilted to the right as she looked back and forth between them. Dean just raised his eyebrows at her as though daring her to figure it out while Sam looked ready to crack with just the right question. Lyria didn't ask any.

Instead, she picked up the bottle of Patrón, poured another shot and drank it down. She then set it on the far side of the table and moved the limes, glasses and salt shaker as well. She turned toward the three then hopped up to sit on the table and crossed her arms. She smiled.

"Here's how it went. You kept trying to get in touch with Cass. Maybe you needed something, maybe his radio silence worried you, whatever. He finally dropped in on you because he was worried that if he didn't you would try to find him – as you have now – which he knew would screw everything up." As all three opened their mouths to challenge that statement she just raised a hand and said, "I'm speaking; you three just shut it." She looked particularly hard at Dean and he thought better of the snark he was about to throw at her. Something about the grief he could glimpse just beneath her calm made him think it would be too mean spirited even for him.

"So Cass shows up and you have a manly round of 'how's it hangin' and 'what's up'. Whatever Cass does or says, it sets off your deception radar. What was it?" She looked thoughtfully into the distance, then smiled. "I get it. It wasn't what he said, it was how he looked." She glanced at Sam to gauge how close to the mark she'd gotten and his slight smile told her she was right. Cass; however, looked all at sea so she smiled reassuringly at him. "Mon amour, for years you have been the three sad stooges, Morose (pointing toward Sam) Longsuffering (at Cass) and Surly (flicking her chin up in Dean's direction)." In response, Dean looked even surlier. On the other hand, Sam looked rather impressed. She winked at him.

"It's simple. You weren't gloomy enough. You went to the bunker and dripped happiness cooties all over your bros and made them instantly suspicious." Sam's grin got wider and even Dean's mouth quirked a bit. Cass looked like he was trying to figure out what a 'cootie' was. Lyria then mused, "That explains why they decided to tail you but not how." She narrowed her eyes in thought and drew her legs up until they were crossed under her. She stabbed Cass with a look. "What did they give you?" she asked him.

Cass looked confused for a minute then smiled. He took a phone out of his coat pocket and handed it to her saying, "They programmed it with all their numbers and put in an app for the weather." He smiled his thanks again at Sam and Dean. They had the grace to look a little uncomfortable. Lyria rolled her eyes.

"Uh huh. They lo-jacked your sweet ass, babe. They put a tracking program in your shiny new phone and just followed the trail here." She sent a scolding look at the brothers then jumped down from the table and, putting her left arm around Cass's neck used her right hand to ruffle his hair. She kissed his cheek.

"Your best friends are unregenerate liars, babe. I'm sure they have other qualities which outweigh that flaw (she sent a rather doubtful look toward them) but you really should keep that in mind. I mean, not to be harsh or anything but they screw up a lot and I wouldn't want you to get squashed in something they've got going down." She patted his coat over his heart, smiled sweetly at him, then let go.

She turned to Sam and Dean and said, her voice containing an odd resonance that startled them, "Did you know that in Heaven Cass is like, I don't know, Patton? His courage and daring are renowned. Even angels who hate Cass are a little in awe of him; he's special. He loves you; you know that. Don't make a fool of him." She held their gaze in silence for a second.

"I would never, ever harm Cass," she continued. "I'm no threat to you or any human. I'm going to ask this just once." She looked at them with an oddly somber expression then asked, "Will you leave? I can have you and Baby back in your bunker in a blink. We can pretend this meeting never happened." She set her jaw as she waited for their response to her request. They didn't need to say anything, the slow shakes of their heads and the grim expression on Dean's face were her answers.

All of a sudden, turning on an emotional dime, she smiled merrily at the two of them. "Okay, here's the deal. I'm not playing Yoko Ono to this aging boy band you three have got going on."

Dean exclaimed, "Aging?!"

Sam, simultaneously, "Boy band?!"

Cass, "Who's Yoko Ono?"

Lyria grinned but continued without responding to any of their exclamations. "Cass is my mate. You are his closest friends. That means we must be friends as well. Like, right now."

She looked at Cass as though for guidance but he just shrugged.

"I know!" Lyria had a brainstorm. "Presents!" She looked at Cass with wide eyes and they smiled at each other. Then she smiled at Sam and Dean. "I shall give you more presents, I mean in addition to the ones I left for you in the Bat Cave." Sam and Dean managed to look a little embarrassed at not thanking her before for the sigils and stuttered a thank you now. She waved that away with a cynical look in her eyes.

"It's okay. I get you. But I need to give this some thought so you have a seat and some drinks, on me." She flicked her hand at the table and next to the Patrón appeared a bottle of whiskey, several whiskey glasses and three beers. "Poppy says work so I've got to get back to work. We'll pick this up again in an hour or so, okay?" Without waiting for an answer she hugged Cass and walked toward a door next to the stage.

Dean thought it was time to take control of the situation and shouted at her back, "What. Are. You?"

Lyria turned around and looked at Dean as she now started walking backwards. With an exasperated huff she shook her head and said, "Have you ever thought about just shutting up?" She then seemed to dismiss Sam and Dean and looked at Cass. Still walking backwards she said to him, "Make sure they're either gone or know the house rules before go time, got that?"

Cass smiled and bowed his head momentarily. "As you wish."

Lyria grinned and said, "That's my guy" and her laughter lingered after she went through the door and closed it behind her.

Cass just stood for a moment looking at the door Lyria had walked through and smiling faintly. When he felt the Winchesters' gazes he looked over at them and said, "It's like being hit in the face over and over again by the wings of a hummingbird. I like it."

* * *

 **CHAPTER 4**

Cass walked around the table and took a seat facing the stage. For a moment after he sat down he looked puzzled. Then he put a hand in the right pocket of his trench coat, pulled out Juno and just sat there, petting her with a slight smile on his face. Sam and Dean took seats across from him and Dean hit the table with his hand saying, "Backstory, Cass! Now!" Sam, calmer but just as curious added, "Cass, you know we never meant to make a fool out of you. We were just concerned and we have a sense there's something going down, something big. We're just trying to understand. Help us understand what's going on. Maybe we can help."

For a couple of beats, Cass just continued petting Juno, who was rubbing herself affectionately across the arm of his trench coat. Then, seemingly at random he asked, "What's the over/under for the night?"

Sam and Dean looked at each other in confusion but before either could respond a voice to the right and behind them did, saying, in a charming British accent, "Over/under's five - could be either or both."

They swiveled around simultaneously to see the blonde at the next table sipping from a martini glass while looking over at Cass. Where he was sitting facing the stage, she was facing the door so they were somewhat face-to-face.

Without looking up from Juno, who he'd placed on the table and whose belly he was currently rubbing he asked, "Are you going with over or under?"

The blonde took a considering sip of her drink and answered, "Over, both. How'd I do?"

Cass smiled and looked up at her, "I have to ask, Vanessa, do you actually want to wear donkey ears for the rest of your life?"

Vanessa smirked at him, "Your girlfriend's a sore loser Cass. She should work on that. By the way, I'm also betting that Benny got in touch with Jace and she'll be joining us soon."

Cass nodded. "Not taking that bet; I'm sure you're right. It's probably best. She shut it down as soon as Dean and Sam hit the door so we're set for the night." Cass sighed.

Cass went back to playing with Juno. Sam and Dean looked back and forth between him and Vanessa but when nothing more was said, Sam turned to her and said, "I'm Sam Winchester and this is my brother Dean. You probably know that already but I thought we should be introduced since you're obviously part of whatever is going on here." There was something about her accent and her direct grey gaze that again tickled at his memory. He wondered why he was having trouble placing her; she was pretty memorable. She was tall, maybe as tall as 5'11", with long legs and long, wavy ash blonde hair. She wore a pair of jeans and a light jacket. She crossed her legs and swung one of a pair of heeled cowboy boots as she sipped and thought. She pushed up the petite black glasses that had slid down the bridge of her nose and shot a sympathetic glance over at Cass.

"Cass" she said his name gently. He looked up. "Would you like me to give them the Cliff's Notes? If we don't satisfy their curiosity they're likely to do something stupid or get in the way. Neither of those possibilities will make Lyria happy." She took his silence as permission.

Vanessa poured whiskey from the bottle sitting on the edge of the table into two glasses. She passed one glass to Dean, the other to Sam.

"Lyria will be back soon so I'll give you the short version of 'Lyria's Lore'. She believes God created Man mostly because he wanted to be surprised. When he planned out the fate of the three realms, Heaven, Hell and Earth, with the Apocalypse as the end game he held out hope for the one possibility no one else considered, that you would say 'no'. Lyria thinks he hoped for it really, although he didn't give it good odds." She smiled at them.

"Wait a minute," Sam interrupted, "Are you saying God wanted us to stop the Apocalypse?"

"I don't talk to God so I don't know what He wants. I know that's what Lyria believes and she does talk to him. She says he was hoping you would surprise him. Please hold all questions," she added with an understanding quirk to her mouth. "I need to get through this in just a few minutes."

"To continue. According to Lyria, God knew that if you stopped the showdown it would create a big mess, a total imbalance of the three realms, which has, in fact, come to pass. So, twenty years ago God arranged for Lyria to be born. Since that time she has been raised in another, dimension, I guess, or, as she calls it her 'box.'"

Vanessa smirked a little. "Lyria says the way you would understand it is that she is the fourth member of 'Team Free Will', batting cleanup with the three of you on base" indicating Cass, Sam and Dean.

Cass spoke up. "You should see her in her baseball practice jersey and cap, she's so cute." Sam and Dean looked at Cass, looked at each other, and then looked back at Vanessa, who was at least giving them actual information. Dean said to Cass, "Please stop talking." Sam said to Vanessa, "Please, continue."

Vanessa did. "I think it might be more accurate to say she was chosen as champion, in the classic sense of the word. The one sent to fight on behalf of everyone, to fight in their place. She believes God sent her to be our champion, to fight Heaven and Hell on our behalf. Those of us with her believe that too."

Vanessa didn't speak again right away; she seemed to be considering her next words. As though coming to a decision she held Cass's gaze for a second then began to speak again. "You have to understand that to Lyria, the three of you are the reason she got the chance to live and come to this world. She feels a special duty toward you. When she finally was released into this world around two months ago the first thing she did was parley with Crowley and Hannah over the terms of engagement. One of the terms was that the two of you were not to be harmed. You are off limits."

Sam and Dean looked at each other, startled.

Vanessa continued. "The second thing she did was meet with her Uncle Ian and convince him not to kill you." Dean frowned at her. "Who the Hell is 'Uncle Ian' and why would he want to kill us?"

Vanessa replied dryly, "You know him as the Horseman of Death and I think you know why he might be a little unhappy with you." Sam and Dean didn't reply to that but did toss a glance at each other. They had wondered why Death hadn't come after them for the dustup in May. Dean mouthed "Uncle Ian?" at Sam. Sam shrugged.

"Here's something that will interest you. According to 'Uncle Ian' Lyria is the third most powerful being in this universe right now, right behind him and God." Sam and Dean tensed, powerful beings almost always brought a royal screwing with them. On the other hand, no longer being on 'Uncle Ian's' shit list was a big mark in Lyria's favor.

Vanessa continued. "She came to your bunker to leave you some protection, after throwing some healing your way." Sam and Dean grunted. Vanessa ignored them. "She doesn't know I know but she also tried to convince Benny to stay with you, where she thought he'd be safer. He shot that down in a hurry." Vanessa and Cass smiled at each other.

Overhead the lights began to dim. Vanessa began to speak more rapidly. "That's really all you need to know. If you stick around you'll get an idea of what she's doing. Now to the 'House Rules'. You have a choice and only one. You can stay and not interfere with Lyria's work, or you can go. If you stay and interfere in any way she will bat you back to your bunker in the flicker of an eyelash. You harm no one while you're here and she will guarantee your safety. Anything about any of that need clarifying?" She raised an eyebrow at the brothers. They shrugged but didn't say anything. Vanessa gave them one hard, long look, tipped her head at Cass, then turned her chair a little so she could see the stage.

The lights continued to dim as the curtains shielding the stage slowly opened. Dean threw back his drink and Sam looked around the bar, then back at the stage. Cass was leaning forward with his forearms on his legs, staring toward the band setup. Juno now sat on his left shoulder.

The lights in the bar lowered still further, the curtains continued to open. Much later, Sam and Dean would wonder why, with everything they had learned that night, what really stunned them was seeing Lyria, braids and guitar swinging, pounding out a cover of Joan Jett's I Love Rock 'n' Roll, fronting for three guys playing keyboard, bass and drums.

Dean decided to go with it; Sam spent a few minutes looking around. He saw Cass grinning stupidly up at Lyria, Vanessa bopping her foot to the music and, having finished her martini, now sipping from a glass of whiskey, and a room full of people enjoying a pretty faithful rendition of the song. What this had to do with saving the world eluded him but he decided for the moment to just let the evening unfold since there didn't appear to be any immediate danger.

As the song ended Lyria seamlessly moved into a raucous cover of Bon Jovi's Blaze of Glory and then without missing a beat on to Benatar's Hit Me with your Best Shot. During the latter song she bopped frequently in Cass's direction, grinning cheekily at him.

At the end of the song, Lyria strummed a few chords and looked out into the audience. "I'm so happy you're all here tonight so I can play a few of my favorites for you. Thank you for listening to me the past few nights; I have had an awesome time. This will have to be my last set, so let's have some fun." Turning around to the band she added, "Let's play a song as a present for my two newest friends."

She counted the beat, spun back around, smiled at Sam and Dean and launched into The Boys are Back in Town followed by Tom Petty's I Won't Back Down, Springsteen's Born to Run, and Scandal's The Warrior. She changed the rhythm and tone with haunting covers of Turn the Page and We've Got Tonight that should have been ridiculous from such a young girl and instead were haunting and almost painfully poignant. She brought the beat back up with the pairing of Whitesnake's Here I Go Again, Benatar's Shadows of the Night, and Stevie Nicks' Stop Draggin' My Heart Around.

Her enthusiasm was reflected back to her two-fold in the crowd's response, as warm as it was loud. For a time the room was filled with nothing more complicated than Lyria and her band, great music and a small sea of people totally in tune with it, dancing, clapping or just swaying a little bit in their rickety chairs. For everyone there, it was a rare evening, a small space of time distinct by relaxation and contentment in the moment.

Dean leaned toward Cass, who was giving Lyria his total focus. He touched Cass's arm and shouted over the music, "She's good!" Cass looked at him like he was nuts. "She's not good, she's revelatory. Not the music itself, although she is a fine musician. Her real talent is a kind of perfect emotional pitch. She finds the heart of meaning and feeling within each song and is able to weave it into her playing. And beneath all of the varied emotions in the music is this constant beat of joy in just, making music." He lifted his hands and then let them drop. "I've never known another being to have such a gift."

Cass turned back toward the stage as Lyria swung through a dynamic version of Wanted Dead or Alive. It was one of Dean's favorite songs and if anyone had told him he'd be thrilled to hear it played by a twenty year old girl he'd have called them a stone liar. But it was as Cass said; it was perfect for how he was feeling but more importantly perfectly captured how he had felt the first time he heard it. He sat back, sipped his whiskey and closed his eyes. He let the music relax him.

As the Bon Jovi song ended, Lyria approached the edge of the stage again and smiled directly at Cass. Even though she wasn't near the microphone, Sam, Dean, Cass and Vanessa heard her clearly when she said, "These last ones are for you, babe." She smiled a little sadly. "To remember me."

In stark contrast to the driving rock sound of the set so far, Lyria's last songs seemed to have been chosen more for message than style. She started off with the theme song from The Greatest American Here (Believe it or Not), grinning at Cass as she sang, "Flying away on a wing and a prayer, who could it be? Believe it or not it's just me." Dean hoped that was some kind of inside joke because it was a truly horrible song.

When the song ended, Lyria put the guitar on its stand and went to the side of the stage to sit at an old piano. The rest of the band faded back as she began to play, looking at Cass as she did a version of Can You Feel the Love Tonight Elton John wouldn't have been unhappy to hear. Sam watched Cass dash away a tear as she sang,

There's a time for everyone if they only learn  
That the twisting kaleidoscope moves us all in turn  
There's a rhyme and reason to the wild outdoors  
When the heart of this star-crossed voyager beats in time with yours

And can you feel the love tonight?  
It is where we are  
It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer  
That we got this far

As the last notes of the song faded out she left the piano, picked up her guitar again and sat at the edge of the stage. She strummed a few chords while looking off into the distance then began Sara McLachlan's In the Arms of the Angel, bringing a sweetness and sorrow to it that almost seemed to create humidity in the room. More than a few people could be seen wiping away tears as she sang,

You're in the arms of the angel, May you find some comfort here

But as though determined not to end the evening on a maudlin note, Lyria got up from the floor of the stage and handed off her guitar to a bandmate. She gave the band a signal while grabbing the microphone and channeled Donna Summer with a rousing rendition of Last Dance that had the bar patrons on their feet. Each time she sang, "'Cause when I'm bad, I'm so, so bad" she winked at Cass and made him laugh despite the pain evident in his eyes.

As the song ended, Lyria bowed to the audience's fervent applause. She indicated the rest of the band with a sweep of her arm to more applause and stepped up to the edge of the stage one last time to say, "Go with or to someone who loves you, because you are loved." She stepped back and the curtains closed.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 5**

Despite the early hour, the bar started to empty out almost immediately. As Dean looked around, he suddenly noted a late arrival leaning on the bar. She seemed to have been constructed from a finely detailed wet dream. From a distance she looked like a cross between Laura Croft and a really classy porn star. She was dressed in leather from her knee high, spike heeled boots to her biker jacket but although the clothing fit like a glove it wasn't for show. Dean's experienced eye noticed some bulges that indicated weapons. She threw back a shot, turned and looked directly at him, leaning back with her elbows on the bar and a cocky smirk on her face. The adjective "wow" came to mind. She was outrageously gorgeous. Tall, built and looking like she'd been carved out of a giant bar of deep, dark chocolate. Dean was in danger of losing perspective when the goddess walked slowly over to the table, never taking her eyes off of his. When she stood just a few feet away she planted her feet, crossed her arms and smiled at him. He had begun to smile back when she looked away toward Vanessa.

In a clipped and cultured mid-Atlantic accent she asked, "Is this one of the moron brothers? He's really pretty. May I have him to play with?"

Vanessa snickered. "You know Lyria's rule – no collateral damage." She got up from her chair; they clasped forearms and then embraced briefly. Vanessa added, "It's good to see you, Jace; Lyria will be thrilled you could make it."

Jace just nodded, her gaze back on Dean. "The boss needs me, I come." She added, "He doesn't look all that fragile."

Dean choked. "Listen lady, there ain't nothin' fragile about me." She just grinned at him. "Prove it."

Whatever Dean was planning to say was interrupted by the stage curtains opening again. Lyria appeared, ran to the edge of the stage and leapt off, flipping ten feet in the air and landing lightly between Jace and Vanessa. She shook her hair back and laughed.

Jace shook her head. "Showoff." Then she grabbed Lyria and they hugged for a moment until Jace drew back and took a look at Lyria's face. "Little sister, you're running a little hot aren't you?

Lyria looked at Jace and without answering walked over to Cass and just leaned against him for a moment. He put his arm around her and she turned.

"Cass, what's the over/under for tonight?" He paused. "Five" She glared at Vanessa. Vanessa put her arms up in surrender. "Yes, I took 'over'. I didn't cheat. Leave my goddamn ears alone."

Confusion was starting to seem like a natural state for Sam and Dean. Jace took pity on them. "Think of this place as a lobster pot for angels and demons. Lyria attracts them with her music, once in, they can't get back out again. The bet apparently was five for tonight. Lyria has a little bit of a gambling problem. She either wants to bet on or negotiate everything. Van bet over which I'm guessing is the right direction or Lyria wouldn't have steam coming out her ears and Van wouldn't be clutching hers in fear."

Cass interjected, "three demons, three angels, although only one is visible."

Lyria moved to stand between Cass's table and Vanessa's, facing the door. She held her arms out in front of her body and then swept them to her sides. As she did, the lights dimmed except in the area of one large table to the left of them and one smaller table to the right, the only ones in the bar still occupied. Two guys and a girl slouched at the table to her left, which was littered with beer bottles and the remnants of a plate of nachos. To her right was a table with one tense looking female with a glass of wine sitting before her.

Lyria grinned, "'Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right' . . ." she turned back around to wink at Sam, Dean, Cass, Jace and Van, ". . . and 'here I am, stuck in the middle with you'." She laughed and began to pace, studying the occupants of the two tables. Without turning around, Lyria spoke again. "Jace, anything come over the celestial wires on Bobby? Did Hannah take care of that situation?"

Dean and Sam looked startled. Jace responded, "Yeah, Hannah took care of it. Singer's out of Heaven's jail and back in what appears to pass for paradise to him, drinking whiskey in an old easy chair and reading a Tori Spelling autobiography." She said this with a note of distaste mixed with confusion. "The great thing about that storyline is it gives us a clear idea of how much Hannah has shared with the others, which looks like nothing. If she had, there wouldn't be all the angel kvetching over releasing him from the cell they popped him into after he helped Tweedledum and Tweedledee" gesturing toward Cass and then Sam, "break Metatron out a few months ago. But I think she has the lid on tight and has solidified control up there because other than the grumbling no one seems to be moving to do anything about it."

Lyria nodded, pleased. "Good, that's good. Keep an ear out and let me know if anything changes." She then turned around from her study of her angel/demon combo platter to find Sam and Cass looking aggrieved, Dean looking astonished and pissed and Van and Jace just looking amused. Lyria raised her eyebrows at all of them but, saying nothing, returned to studying her quarries.

Vanessa took pity on the guys' confusion while simultaneously ignoring all the emotion pumping off of them. "No time to go into all of this right now; you will need to fight about it later. Bobby's release was another term of engagement Lyria negotiated. First, because it was important to her and second because it would enable us to track the political alliances up there." She pointed upward. Dean looked reluctantly impressed.

Sam spoke up. "We got the 'house rules' and we don't mean any disrespect, but would it be possible to know what the Hell is going on here?"

Dean added, sarcastically, "not that we're interfering or anything."

Without turning around, Lyria said, simply, "Intelligence gathering, mostly, with a little bit of healing and, if we're lucky, some dissension sowing."

"Jace," she added, "I put the lid on as soon as the Winchesters hit the door. I'm pretty sure our demon pals," gesturing to the group of three, "didn't get any message to Crowley but can't be sure about our little angel-with-the-stick-up-her-ass over there or her buds. What can you tell me?"

Jace tapped her ear. "No chatter on angel radio so I don't think they reached out before you shut down their ability to communicate. Cass?"

"I wasn't really paying attention, but I would have noticed if the word 'Winchester' flew across the airwaves. I think we're safe."

Dean asked, "What's the problem with either the demons or the angels knowing we're here? Why would they care? Why would you?"

Vanessa answered him, a little impatiently. "I told you, Lyria negotiated for your safety. Crowley and Hannah's agreement was predicated on you staying off the board, so to speak."

Lyria turned her back on the occupants of the other tables and added, "Crowley insisted on that. They couldn't be expected to keep their paws off you if you were fighting with me. The deal is that you're not involved and they don't harm you. If they had discovered we were 'hanging out' (air quotes) together they would assume the deal was breached. I can't have that."

Dean and Sam looked at each other. It was Dean who spoke. "Listen sister, we decide when we fight and when we don't and we don't need Hannah Montana standing in front of us. You seem to know a lot about us so you know we can take care of ourselves."

Lyria frowned at Dean in annoyance. "I told you before, Don't. Call. Me. Sister. Especially not in that arrogant, dismissive tone. I have a name, feel free to either use it or just shut the Hell up."

Dean ignored her. "That one calls you sister and you don't seem to mind." Dean pointed at Jace.

"Jace is my sister, jackass, as is Van."

Dean sneered. "Yeah, the resemblance is astounding. Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen have nothing on you guys."

Oddly, Lyria wasn't angry at this but just smiled gently at him. "Family doesn't end with blood, Dean. There are the families we're given, and the families we make."

Lyria's mood flipped. "Hey, is the 'Hannah Montana' reference supposed to be an insult?" She turned to Jace and Vanessa. "Should I be walloping him for that?"

Jace put a hand to her ear and said, "What's that? Oh, yeah. It's Benny saying, 'Work now. Punch Dean later.' And yes, referring to you as Hannah Montana is an insult. But he doesn't mean it – he was totally into your music." She shamed Dean with a look. Lyria did as well and then walked toward Cass.

She flipped a coin that had suddenly appeared in the palm of her hand. It went up and up and up, flipping over and over and over until it finally landed back in her right hand and she slapped it on the back of her left one. She showed Cass the coin; he lifted a brow.

"Angels it is," she said. She kissed Cass on the cheek and walked away.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 6**

Cass sat back down in his seat and Vanessa in hers. Jace kicked a chair at Vanessa's table until it faced the angel, who Dean and Sam suddenly realized couldn't see any of them. They looked over at the three demons and decided the demons couldn't see them either. They seemed to each be in a kind of opaque but transparent bubble, captives in a supernatural zoo.

For a moment, everyone just looked at the angel; Sam, Dean and Cass seated around one table, Jace and Van at the next table and Lyria standing between and a short distance from the two. Then she walked forward, seeming to step through a ripple of water although she didn't get wet. As she did so, the angel looked up, then stood up abruptly.

Lyria smiled, "You don't have to get up. Finish your Chardonnay." The angel remained standing. Lyria waved her right arm out to her side and two more angels appeared, and jumped back in shock. They were slightly translucent males wearing ill-fitting grey suits.

Lyria smiled amiably and addressed the newly visible angels. "No one likes a peeper, guys. So, not wearing meat suits and the suits you are wearing are really unattractive. This isn't your usual sort of gig is it? So what are you here for?" As she spoke she strolled toward them casually, her hands on her hips.

Suddenly, the two raced forward, flanking her and pulling out angel blades. Sam and Dean leaped out of their seats and ran forward until they bounced off the barrier between their area and the one containing Lyria and the angels. They picked themselves up as Cass, Jace and Vanessa rolled their eyes, saying nothing and never taking their attention from Lyria.

While Sam and Dean were rolling around on the floor checking their body parts for damage, Lyria was confiscating the angel blades with a wave of her hand. They flew toward her and she caught one in each hand, flipped and then caught them again by the hilts. Then she turned each one and stabbed herself in the chest with it. The angels, Sam and Dean recoiled simultaneously. Cass and Jace didn't react although Vanessa's lips quirked at Lyria's deliberate theatricality. The angel blades crumpled against her chest as though they were movie props or made out of rubber. She then flipped them up again, grabbed them by the blades and threw them across the room where they embedded themselves into two wooden pillars at the bar, just over the heads of the two male angels.

"So, in just a few moments really you've acquired two pieces of useful information; one, I can see angels even if they're invisible to humans and two, weapons around me only work if I want them to. So you have some good dish to take back to Cousin Hannah. And here's some more."

Lyria pointed at the angel blades lodged in the pillars. "You call those angel blades? These are angel blades." She pointed her thumbs at her shoulders. To Dean and Sam's astonishment a set of angel wings appeared at her shoulders. Usually when they saw an angel's wings they appeared as a kind of silhouette attached to the solid figure of the angel. In this case it was the reverse, Lyria appeared in silhouette but her wings were rendered with absolute clarity. They were massive and beautiful and chilling, reflecting light in every direction, and seemingly constructed of thousands of gleaming angel blades. Lyria wore them casually, as another woman might a favorite set of pearls. Although they looked absolutely solid, she did not appear to be weighed down by them. She stood relaxed before the three angels with a slight smile on her face, in stark contrast to the fascinated horror on the faces of the angels. She cut the silence.

"It's said these were my grandfather's favorite dress wings. They're really shiny, aren't they?" She stopped smiling and took a step toward the two male angels. They stood their ground but it was obviously an effort. "My name is Lyria. If you haven't heard anything about me it's because Cousin Hannah is deliberately keeping that information from you. Ask yourselves why that might be. Your father sent me. You'll be hearing more about me in the days to come so pay attention."

"Now, buh bye." She waved at them, smiling, and they disappeared.

She turned to the remaining angel and just stood there considering her for a moment; her wings fading out and her body getting more solid until they were gone and she was herself again.

"Hello, Uldrid," she began. "That's quite a name. We'll get back to that but before we have our little pow-wow, I'm going to have a chat with your vessel Candace." She snapped her fingers and a change in demeanor was immediately apparent. Candace's posture was much less rigid, her hands unclenched and a tentative smile began to form on what was now, once it wasn't so pinched, an attractive face framed by a lot of curly red hair.

Lyria spoke gently, "Hello, my name is Lyria. You're Candace aren't you?" Candace just nodded, blinking bright green eyes. Lyria continued. "It is lovely to meet you and I want you to know I think your freckles are just gorgeous. It's like your face is covered in tiny smiles." Lyria smiled in absolute sincerity and appreciation.

"I'd like to speak to you for a few minutes if that's okay but first, well, I can tell you're in quite a lot of pain. It's not easy to be a vessel, only the strongest can do so for any length of time. Would you allow me to ease your pain?"

As Lyria spoke she walked slowly toward Candace, continuing to smile gently until she stood right before her. Candace looked a little fearful but nodded hesitantly. Lyria took Candace's hands in hers and just stood for a few moments, still smiling reassuringly. Candace relaxed and began to smile as well.

Finally, Lyria dropped Candace's hands and stepped back. Candace rolled her shoulders and gave a little sigh. She smiled at Lyria and thanked her in a soft voice tinged with a slight Southern accent.

"You're quite welcome. I'm glad you feel better. It is a great kindness and shows a generous heart to share your body with an angel. I want to make sure you have done so freely. Angels may only possess a human with her permission but some can be a little coercive. How do you feel, truly feel about being a vessel for Uldrid?"

Candace assured Lyria she was fine being Uldrid's vessel; she considered it an honor and an opportunity to learn things most humans never have an opportunity to learn. Lyria just nodded then asked, "Candace, can you remember everything that has happened since you became host to Uldrid?" Candace looked confused. Lyria tried again, "Are there any gaps in your memory, times that you can't quite remember since you became a vessel? Are there events that you only remember afterward, not while they're happening?" Candace looked thoughtful and nodded slightly.

Lyria sighed. "Candace, it's important you always know what's going on. What Uldrid does, you do as well and you should always only do what you wish and what you feel is right. Angels are not better than humans, they're just different. This is your body and you have the primary right and responsibility over it, not Uldrid. When I healed you just now, I added a marker to ensure Uldrid will never be able to do anything while inside you that you are not aware of – and any time you do not approve of what Uldrid is about to do you can tell her to leave. You have agency, moral agency and physical agency. I don't want you to ever suffer regret because you were used to do something your gentle nature would never consider." Lyria looked over at Sam somberly, caught his gaze and nodded once. Sam's eyes gleamed for a second and he nodded back, then dropped his gaze to the whiskey glass in his hand.

Happy with the awareness she saw in Candace's face, Lyria briefly placed a hand on her shoulder and then asked if it would be okay if she spoke with Uldrid. Candace nodded. Lyria said, "Thank you, and it was really nice meeting you and speaking with you. One more thing, if you should ever be in trouble or in pain, call for me. If I am able, I will come to you and help."

Candace asked, "I should pray to you?"

Lyria, with a look of revulsion on her face, "Hell, no. That would just be creepy. Please don't pray at me. Just call my name." She grinned at Candace. "I have really good hearing."

As Candace smiled back, Lyria snapped her fingers. Immediately, Candace's posture stiffened and the pinched, sour look that signaled Uldrid appeared again.

Uldrid sneered and said, "Are you done petting the human?"

Lyria replied, "You're lucky the fact that you're wearing Candace keeps me from blacking your eyes for that sneer. I really would like to belt you." She sighed. "But then I'd just have to heal it and that would be inefficient." Lyria hopped up on the table next to Uldrid, pulled up her legs and crossed them under her, totally relaxed. She tilted her head in Uldrid's direction.

"Understand this Uldrid. Uldrid? Really? They couldn't do any better by you?" As though Lyria could feel Jace and Vanessa's impatience, she waved her hand in the air and said, "Never mind. Here's what I need you to know. Ready?" She stared hard into Uldrid's eyes until Uldrid nodded curtly. "For me, there is no such thing as collateral damage. I do not accept harming humans; I am sent to be their champion. Any angels cause any damage to a human and they will answer to me. Do not harm Candace. "

Uldrid sneered again. "And we should fear you why? Because of that parlor trick with the wings?"

Lyria leaned in casually, as though they were just a couple of girls having a chat. "No, although that wasn't a trick and you know it. You should fear me because I grabbed the butler of Heaven, aka Hannah and the King of Hell, aka Crowley and they're only back in their respective realms because I let them go. Want to know where I held them?" Uldrid just looked at Lyria in stony silence.  
Lyria leaned even closer, smiled in a particularly nasty way and gave her the answer anyway. "I held them in my mind. Think about that for a while. That's why she's sent you, because she does fear me and for good reason."

Uldrid looked a little sick and gulped once before seeming to find her stones. "Hannah sent me to bring you to her. You are directed to lay down your arms and accompany me to Heaven with no delay."

Lyria projected an air of bewilderment. "Lay down my arms? I can't lay down my arms. How would I eat tacos? I do love a good taco." She then smiled mischievously at Uldrid and, hearing a laugh behind her turned around and grinned back at Dean. "That was funny right? Usually no one gets my sense of humor." Uldrid looked confused because, of course, she could not see or hear the others.

Lyria turned back to Uldrid and the smile was gone. "Explain why you or Hannah would think I'd come to Heaven on Hannah's order."

If possible, Uldrid looked even snootier. "Hannah represents the moral authority of Heaven. You must submit."

Lyria began coughing and once started couldn't seem to stop. She coughed and choked until she kind of rolled off the table. Uldrid jumped back but Lyria didn't approach her, just staggered back toward the others, still coughing. Jace jumped up from her chair, strode to Lyria and began pounding her on the back. Lyria batted her away then bent over, placing her hands on her knees for a moment; the coughing slowed and soon she was just breathing heavily. Then she stood up, wiped a hand across her sweaty forehead and pointed over her shoulder toward Uldrid.

With a wild look on her face she snapped, "Did that snotty bitch really just play the 'moral authority of Heaven' card with me?" For a moment no one spoke. Finally, Sam ventured, in his gentle voice, "Yeah, moral authority, that was the phrase she used."

"Is she fracking kidding me with this shit?!" Lyria smacked his table twice then slapped her hands on her hips and glared over at Uldrid, who had abruptly sat down at her table and, apparently thinking she was alone, was looking both worried and a little sick.

Dean snorted, "Fracking? Being a little prissy, aren't we?"

Lyria relaxed, frowned a little sheepishly and rolled her eyes. "It's called a euphemism, jackass. I negotiated it with Poppy. He's a little old fashioned and doesn't care for girls saying swearwords, not even girl monsters. Our agreement is that I don't say the 'f' word or the 'c' word - whatever the frack that is - I get to say all the others. Mostly it works okay. Right now I kinda regret the deal because 'fracking' just doesn't express what I'm feeling!"

All worked up again, she clenched her fists, then consciously unclenched them. Cass, Jace and Vanessa were looking wary. Even Sam and Dean were beginning to get the rhythm and felt a little anxious, especially since they'd just learned their weapons were pretty 'fracking' useless against her.

Lyria sighed once and then stepped back through the opaque curtain. She paced in front of Uldrid for a moment as though considering how to proceed. She started off sounding rational enough but syllable by syllable the volume and intensity rose until her voice was like a rumbling of thunder in the room.

"I need to be really clear on this point because it goes to the heart of my presence here. Heaven has absolutely no moral authority anymore, none. Zip, zilch, nada, nil. Got it? Any tattered remnants it might have had were blown to Hell when you complete jackholes tried to inflict an apocalypse on this planet!"

Lyria started to glow a little about the eyes and fingertips as she raged on. "Seven billion souls on this planet and you gave not one single thought to their existence, much less their safety or their happiness. You selfish two-dimensional pricks cared for nothing, nothing but your own narcissistic needs and wants! Your mission was to protect them, guide them, love them and you were willing to barbecue them all on the off chance it might get you to some un-earned paradise!

It took two humans and the hottest renegade angel in angel history to short circuit that grotesque nightmare so if there's even anything that could still be called 'moral authority' it's vested in them, not any of you moral morons. You disgust me!"

Lyria swept her right arm to the side and sent a shot of what looked like pure white light at the far wall, causing an explosion and then a small fire. She watched it for a second then sighed. She shot a stream of water from her right index finger to put it out then blew on the finger drawling, "Quickest hose in the west."

The tantrum seemed to have calmed her a bit. She sighed and looked at Uldrid with a kind of pity, the kind you have for someone who, with all the will in the world, will never understand what you're trying to teach them.

"They saved this planet, the three of them, and that includes the angels putzing about above them. Which, by the way, is what your father wanted and why he created me and had me out in the wings, pun intended, until I was needed. And it's why the one thing that you, all of you will remember, even if I have to tattoo it on all your goddamn foreheads is that no one messes with the Winchesters. Learn it, live it, love it. Seven billion people owe them and Castiel their lives and I owe them my existence. That will be honored. Now, do you need me to repeat any of that, bitch?"

Uldrid, who had seemed to shrink smaller and smaller during Lyria's diatribe, was designed to be very persistent so she rather stupidly persevered. "You are to come with me." She suddenly looked like a petulant child in a grocery store ready to pitch a fit if she didn't get the gummie bears she wanted. All of Lyria's anger drained away and she was now just a little weary. She rubbed a hand over her face, sighed and turned away. With her back to Uldrid, she hopped back up on the table, swiveled around to face her and tucked her legs under her. She looked down at Uldrid with as much kindness as she could muster.

"What is it that Hannah wants? You'll get further if you're just straight with me."

"Hannah believes you should ally with Heaven. If you do, she will put resources at your disposal to assist in your war against the demons. Additionally . . . ." Uldrid paused, a look of extreme distaste on her face. Chronic pickle suckers looked less sour than she did at that moment.

"Additionally?" Lyria prompted.

"Additionally, Hannah says you may . . . find your place among us even though you are an abomination. You may stay in Heaven as one of us. This is a great concession on the part of Heaven and has caused much controversy."

"Ah," replied Lyria. You mean I could be some kind of poor relation at the country manor, that kind of deal? So terribly, terribly kind of you," she added the last bit in an exaggeratedly posh British accent.

Simultaneously, Cass pushed back his chair so violently it fell over. He muttered, "Enough!" And stomped through the barrier to where Lyria and Uldrid were now just looking at each other.

"Uldrid!" Cass snapped, startling both women, who swung their gazes around to him.

Lyria put up a hand to stop him and smiled gently. "Mon amour, it is not important. Don't let her snobbishness upset you. It's hardly the first time I've been referred to in such a manner." Her smile became a little sad. She reached out for Cass's hand, squeezed it affectionately and left their hands linked. She looked back at Uldrid.

"If I were a status whore, which you obviously are, I might point out that although I may not be 'pure' I am descended from archangels whereas you're just some D list foot soldier who's only been given this job because you're expendable and Hannah couldn't be sure I wouldn't just smite your ass when you made your insulting little offer."

Cass smirked. She squeezed his hand again in response and continued. "However, I'm not a status whore and you and your kind can call me any name you want; I couldn't care less. But here's the big reveal. I don't need your or Hannah's permission to enter Heaven. I do it all the time. Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, I have an all access pass to all the realms. And, just to put the subject away for all time I have to admit that of them all, I dislike Heaven the most. Between the hypocrisy and the tedium I'm not sure why you like it. I've had better lunches in Purgatory than coffee breaks in Heaven and Hell has much better music. So thanks but no thanks.

This has been fun and all but I've got some other chores to get done this evening so I'm going to let you get going with just a few final remarks. Ready? First, judging by the creepy way you're staring at my and Castiel's chestal areas, you've noticed our Marks of Union. Let Hannah know that I know the last time he asked for her help she refused him. As his mate I've decided to take retroactive offense at that. I'm adding that to her tab so she'll want to watch her prissy little ass.

Second, at my command, my mate will be watching over the Winchester brothers until I am done fulfilling my mission on this planet. Make sure Hannah is aware that I've been able to juice up his power to such a level that it would be extremely unwise for any angels to challenge him. I am sworn not to kill. Cass has taken no such vow, so behave accordingly. By the way, the marker I placed in Candace will also cause you to forget you saw the Winchesters here tonight so you won't have that intel to pass along.

Third, I'm going to elevate your status and make you my messenger. Mostly because I feel bad for that D list foot soldier crack. That was seriously uncool. Let everyone know I am not a threat; I'm not here to kill anyone. But I'm reclaiming this planet for the humans. Any angel who wants to return to her highest, best self and carry on the mission her father entrusted to her is free to stay and I offer my powers as a healer to help them become that highest, best self. Any angel who isn't interested in that should leave. I know angels don't care for decision making but let as many as possible know that these are their choices. They have about ten months to decide. After that I'll be the one deciding for them."

Lyria paused to give Uldrid a chance to respond but after a moment of strained silence continued. "One last thing and then I'll let you get back to Cousin Hannah. Like I said earlier, I don't accept harm to humans. Make sure Hannah and everyone else knows that if an angel harms a human I will know it and I will act. I don't kill, but in a galaxy far, far away I've created a labyrinth that is as infinite as it is tedious. Anyone who violates this one condition will end up there. No one will be able to find them and they'll just walk the maze for a few centuries thinking about how unwise it was to piss. me. off." She jabbed Uldrid in the chest with her finger to punctuate each of the last three words.

"Speaking of humans, your vessel Candace is special, loving and gracious and generous. You could learn much from her if you weren't so determined to be all superior. If you can't appreciate her, at least be kind. When you're done possessing her bring her to me so I can heal her. You owe her that."

Lyria paused as though wondering if there was anything she'd left out then added, "Think about what I've said, won't you? I can help you. I know you will feel insulted by this but I think of you as my family, just like I think of the humans as my family. You're all important to me." Uldrid had risen during this last bit and just stood with no expression on her face. She did not respond verbally to Lyria's offer but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

"Be well, Uldrid. Sorry about insulting your name. That wasn't cool either and actually it's kind of grown on me. Good bye." Lyria waved her hand and Uldrid disappeared.

Cass dropped Lyria's hand to wrap his arm around her waist and she turned to him with a smile. "There's my knight, ready to pound someone just for insulting my honor. Mon dieu that's hot." She kissed him long and hard.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 7**

Dean couldn't remember ever being so exhausted from sitting in a chair watching someone else talk. He glanced over at Sam, caught his gaze and then tipped his head toward the next table and Jace and Vanessa. Sam nodded. Maybe they could get a few answers while Cass and Lyria were otherwise occupied. Before he could figure an approach, Vanessa and Jace started speaking to each other, although their conversation was not useful to him as it was not in English. Dean looked back at Sam with a raised eyebrow; Sam leaned over and quietly said, "I think they're speaking in Enochian. Aside from angels and demons like Crowley I've never known anyone who spoke it conversationally, especially not humans." Sam squinted over at the other table. "I swear I know the blonde from somewhere, I just can't place her."

Dean smirked. "Now that would make sense if I said it but you don't get around that much, dude." Sam didn't bother to look at him but did frown dismissively as he continued to listen to the conversation Dean found incomprehensible. "I can't really get what they're saying but I've been recording with my phone ever since we got here because I'm trying to get conversant. I'll translate when we get to the bunker."

"I guess that'll have to do." Dean looked over at Cass and Lyria. Cass was now standing with his hands in his pockets looking intent as Lyria spoke rapidly in Enochian and gestured graphically with her hands. "Think she might be part Italian?" Dean asked idly.

"Don't know." Sam responded. "We do know, after that bit with the wings, that she's at least part angel." Dean swiveled around, "How does that relationship even work? Angels are junkless right?"

Sam wasn't interested in having this conversation with Dean so didn't respond. He was becoming a little obsessed with figuring out why Vanessa seemed so familiar. He knew they hadn't been involved; he wasn't so old or so prolific in the sack that he would have forgotten a woman he'd actually been with but he was certain they had crossed paths. He was getting the sense too that she remembered more than he did, periodically he caught her eyeing him with a look of slight amusement, with something else behind it, something a lot darker.

Before he could make a move, he was distracted by Cass and Lyria as their conversation had now become quite a bit more animated, although almost all on her side. Cass was almost never animated. As Sam watched, Lyria abruptly made the universal sign for 'Enough' or in baseball 'Safe' and returned to their tables with an impressive frown. Cass strolled behind her, his face remarkable for its entire lack of expression.

Lyria poured some whiskey into a glass, toasted Sam and Dean a little mockingly, threw it back and slapped the glass back on the table. She rubbed the back of her neck and said, "I need my kitten . . . and a piece of pie."

Simultaneously, Cass, Jace and Vanessa shouted, "No!" Lyria looked at them sourly. Cass took Juno out of his coat pocket where she'd been sleeping and handed her to Lyria. Juno opened sleepy eyes, yawned widely and batted at Lyria's face.

Dean found himself a little outraged on Lyria's behalf. "Come on. Who are you people, the pie police?! The girl's been working hard, she deserves a little pie." He nodded decisively at Lyria and she smiled a little ruefully in response.

"Pie is for later," Cass said. "Much later," Jace added. "You guys are really strict." Dean complained.

"Not really," Vanessa volunteered. "Lyria's metabolism has a few quirks that humans' don't. A piece of pie has the same effect as a fifth of that," pointing at the whiskey bottle, "would have on you."

Dean looked at Lyria in astonishment and she shrugged a little sheepishly. After rubbing Juno's face against her own she popped her into one of the inside pockets of her vest. It bulged for a second, then lay flat. Dean took a moment to wonder how that worked.  
"Pie was at the top of my bucket list for my time here so at first I ate it at every opportunity. It took Poppy and me a little while to figure out it was intoxicating me. In retrospect it is very amusing and Poppy loves to tell the tales but at the time I was quite bewildered since I had observed people eating pie for years and none of them seemed to have anything like the same reaction." She smiled a little now but it fell off her face almost immediately and she looked off into space with a rather somber expression.

Vanessa said, "Lyria?" Lyria looked over at her. "Come here, sweetie." She held out her arms and unselfconsciously Lyria walked over, sat in her lap and let Vanessa wrap her arms around her as she closed her eyes and sagged a little with weariness. For a moment, Vanessa just hugged her as you would a child and then kissed her forehead and whispered something in her ear. Without opening her eyes, Lyria smiled and said, "Poppy would not approve of bribing me to get back to work, Van." Then she opened them, jumped up from the chair and said, "But it works for me!"

Lyria began to pace away then abruptly stopped and snapped the fingers of her right hand as though just taken by a thought. She swerved back around, pinned Dean with an intense look and walked back toward him. "Hey, you could help me out, here." Her smile was scary and Dean was instantly wary. "Yeah?" he asked. "How's that?"

Oh, it's nothing really. But you're such a worldly and sophisticated man I'm sure you know what the 'c' word is and can tell me." She looked around and frowned at Cass, Vanessa and Jace. "They won't and it doesn't seem right to me. Does that seem right to you?" She batted her eyes innocently at him which raised his survival instinct to new levels. But he couldn't see the harm in just sharing some vulgar information. He was not quite sober, feeling a little reckless and just contrary enough to be happy at the thought of acting counter to everyone else's preferences. It wasn't pie, but it was something.

He opened his mouth but before he could say anything, Jace spat, "Shut it" at him. She pointed a finger and gave him a regal look as she stood. She then sent Vanessa an exasperated glance, walked over to Lyria, face palmed her and pushed her hard enough that she staggered several steps back. Jace turned back to Dean.

"You can do whatever you like, but before you decide, here's what you'll want to know. If you tell her the word she'll repeat it, over and over, maybe seven or eight times. Then she'll ask you to define it for her. Then she'll ask you to use it in a sentence. Then she'll ask you why it's considered a taboo word. Then she'll ask you to use it in another sentence. Then she'll repeat it another half a dozen times. This will go on and on and on. Trust me on this; I know."

As Jace spoke, Dean's face got steadily whiter and he swallowed hard as she concluded her remarks. He looked over at Lyria, now standing with her arms crossed, looking like she'd start stomping her feet at any moment. He shrugged. "Sorry, kid. Don't know what word you're talking about."

Lyria frowned awfully at him, sniffed then snapped, "Coward!" She looked at Jace in disappointment. "Your fingers smell like cheese crackers." She sniffed again.

Then she flounced a little ways until she was just a few feet from the three demons at their lonely little table. Having drunk all the beer, and one of them having thrown the remains of the nachos at the barrier in frustration, they were now relieving the monotony of the wait by taking turns tossing blades at objects they placed on each other's heads. Lyria tilted her head to one side and eyed them as a sensitive soul might a zoo exhibit, equal parts fascination and revulsion. She waved Vanessa over. Vanessa hesitated and tensed but then joined her, shoving her hands in the pockets of her jeans as she did so. They stood together for a moment, then Lyria rubbed Vanessa's back and started identifying the demons.

"The pasty guy with the cheap earring and the sleeve tats is named Pifl, the teeny Asian girl who looks like she just stepped out of an Anime episode and whose head he's currently tossing his blade at is called Eft and Friar Tuck over there is channeling Restran." She touched Vanessa's arm as she named the last and in a deliberately light tone added, "What's with the stupid names, anyway? Why aren't there demon 'Bobs' or 'Nancys'?" Vanessa took a step away from Lyria and rubbed her own arms as though trying to get rid of a chill. Lyria remained silent. Sam noticed this, because even in the short period of time knowing her he'd figured out this wasn't her default setting.

It was Vanessa who broke the silence. "The two younger ones are just chum, kept around for muscle and entertainment value. And by chum I mean fish parts, not pals. The one you want to talk to is Restran. He's been a kind of lieutenant for Crowley since around the time Crowley took over Hell." In the beginning, Vanessa's speech was a little hoarse but it evened out as she went on and her tone developed an analytical bent. She put her hands in the pockets of her jean jacket and rocked a little on her cowgirl boots. "He won't have any top level secrets but he's good for some second level intel. We had a few dealings back in the day. He was a jealous little rat bastard and easily manipulated because of it. Play that up and you shouldn't have much trouble getting what he knows out of him."

Lyria didn't respond right away. Then, "He noticed you earlier, Van. It interests me that he apparently can't distinguish between who you are and what you were. Is that something you think we could use?" She paused. "Or, put another way, would you find it therapeutic to kick his sorry demon ass?" She smiled affectionately at Vanessa. "It shall be as you wish."

Vanessa looked thoughtful, then paced back and forth in front of them as they, all unknowing, continued their antics.

"Okay," Vanessa finally said, "Let's do this."

Lyria held out her hand and Vanessa put hers in it. Together they walked through the barrier and into the demons' presence. The response was instantaneous and extreme. The three immediately rushed Lyria and Vanessa but almost as soon as they began their forward motion, Lyria's upheld hand hurled them backward until they slammed into the wall and landed on the floor. Lyria smiled innocently at them as they sputtered and struggled to get to their feet. She waved her right arm and Restran was flung into a chair and bound with ropes. A snap of Lyria's fingers and he lost consciousness.

She snapped her fingers again and the other two lost consciousness as well. She walked over and knelt down before them, then gestured for Vanessa to join her. Vanessa knelt down as well, placing one hand on Lyria's shoulder and one on the female demon's forehead. Lyria placed her left hand on the forehead of the tattooed demon. No one spoke.

A silvery light began to pour out of Lyria's palms, into the forehead of the young male demon and through Vanessa into the female's forehead. They held the pose for several long moments and still, no one spoke. There was a dreamy beauty in the picture they made, as though the light contained a pulse of grace that danced around the two. The glow stirred Vanessa and Lyria's hair as a gentle breeze might, and then slowly their hair settled again and the glow faded. Lyria and Vanessa smiled at each other. Vanessa took Lyria's right hand and placed it on what was now just a young girl.

Behind the barrier, Jace took a sip of her whiskey and kept her eyes on Lyria and Vanessa while Cass spoke to Sam and Dean. "Lyria has purged the demons from those two. Now she'll heal them."

Vanessa stood up and walked to study the remaining demon. Lyria now knelt between the young boy and young girl, placed a hand on a shoulder of each. She again summoned a glow that this time traveled from the top of their heads to their feet and then back again before fading out. Lyria finally stood up and looked down at them. She waved her hand and they were suddenly laying with their heads on pillows and covered with blankets. She nodded once with satisfaction and walked over to Vanessa. They stood together for a few moments studying the remaining demon.

Lyria turned and waved Jace over, pushing her arm through the barrier to create a hole for Jace to walk through. "I need you to take these two to Poppy. They'll sleep for hours and need a little more attention but they'll be fine for now. They're from Chicago, so let Poppy know to put the Midwest team on standby." Jace's only response was raised eyebrows and an outstretched palm. Lyria looked surprised.

"Are you sure? You don't have anything or anyone else you need to do?" Lyria smirked. Jace gave her a strict look and shook her still outstretched palm. Lyria dropped what looked like a small glowing stone in it. Jace stuck it in an interior pocket of her leather jacket and then with long strides walked over to the sleeping teenagers, knelt down and placed a hand on each. She looked over at Lyria and nodded. Lyria nodded back and Jace, the young girl and the boy disappeared.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 8**

Lyria walked back over to Vanessa and asked, "What was that all about?" Vanessa just looked at her and smiled, "It's about family, brat." Lyria looked thoughtful then smiled back and nodded without commenting again. As suddenly as she had disappeared, Jace was back with them. She walked back to the tables, threw herself in a chair and picked up her glass of whiskey. She looked at Lyria and said, "Benny asked me to give you a couple of messages." Lyria looked politely attentive. "He said to stop malingering over here and get the job done. What kind of word is 'malingering' anyway?"

Lyria laughed. "It is a wonderful word; Poppy knows many of the old ones."

Jace rolled her left shoulder. "Whatever. 'Poppy' says it's time to come home. He told me to tell you he has baked you a cherry pie and it's time you took a . . ." Before she could finish the sentence Cass and Vanessa simultaneously shouted "NO!" Sam and Dean were beginning to think they were all, Cass included, just a little nuts. Sam privately acknowledged that his nerves weren't going to be able to handle much more of this nonsense.

Meanwhile, Lyria pouted at Vanessa and Cass. "You are embarrassing me! I'm not a baby, you know. Besides, it only happens in places where I feel safe." She pointed one arm at Restran and one at Sam and Dean, "I'm standing between a demon and the Winchesters; how safe do you think I feel?"

Pointing at Cass and Vanessa, Dean asked, "What the Hell are you two afraid of?" Lyria glared at them in a way that let them know that if they ratted her out donkey ears were definitely in their futures so they stayed silent. Jace, either less intimidated or not bothered at the idea of having her ears altered, answered the question. "If Lyria hears the word 'nap' or 'sleep' or some synonym of them, she immediately loses consciousness." Sam and Dean swiveled around to look at Lyria, who glared at all of them. "But as she said, that only happens when she is somewhere she feels safe, with people who make her feel that way so we have nothing to worry about here." For some reason she seemed to be a little angry about that and gave Dean and Sam a bit of a hard look before eyeing Lyria and saying, "It's nap time little sis. Let's get this done and get gone. Oh, and BTW, embarrassing is a top perk of being a big sister, so deal." She held Lyria's gaze for a moment then shifted to Vanessa who nodded her understanding. Everyone waited for Lyria to react but after a moment she appeared prepared to ignore the whole incident in favor of dealing with the remaining demon who was listing to the side of the chair he was tied to and now drooling a little.

Lyria made a face of distaste. "Van, he's icky. Please tell me it's now ass kicking time." Vanessa didn't reply immediately so Lyria continued mildly, "If he doesn't interest you, I can take care of it; just let me go get my lasso of truth." She grinned at her own joke, as she tended to do, then looked as though she had just had a revolutionary thought.

She turned back to the tables. "Dean, would I be hot if I dressed up like Wonder Woman?" She asked hopefully.

Jace was confused and repulsed. "What the Hell's happening here?" She directed the question to Vanessa. Vanessa sighed then walked back from her place beside the demon's chair, flipped one of the chairs at Jace's table around and straddled it. "That one" pointing at Dean, "said she wasn't hot. That one," pointing at Sam, "agreed with him. She's obsessing."

Jace tapped a nail against her whiskey glass in irritation. "Let me get this straight," she said, looking at Dean. "Little sister's been on the planet for two months and you've already managed to give her body image issues?" Dean looked a little shamefaced but waded in even over Sam's hissed, "Dean, don't!"

"Listen, lady, eavesdroppers never hear compliments. Maybe next time she'll think twice before listening in on other people's private conversations."

Sam looked at him, "Dean, private doesn't really apply when you're talking in the middle of a bar."

Dean batted him away. "You know what I mean. We were all the way across the room. And I'm tired of being punished for this so can we move on? I'm not responsible for that girl's fixations."

Jace's gorgeous dark eyes blinked once at the end of this speech and she seemed to consider Dean for a second, holding herself absolutely still. Dean had exceptionally well developed survival instincts so was aware at that moment how truly dangerous she was. But he too was dangerous and it was a point of honor not to break eye contact so for a moment or so they just stared at each other. Jace blinked again then shrugged dismissively at Dean (which pissed him right off) and turned to Vanessa with a raised eyebrow. Whatever she saw on Vanessa's face seemed to give her a course of action and she turned to Lyria, who had been standing a little plaintively off to the side with a shamefaced look on her face.

Jace settled back in her chair, indolently crossed one leg over the other and took a meditative sip of her whiskey. Then she looked Lyria dead in the eye and said, "He's right of course." Sam and Cass gasped a little in distress; Van just squinted at Jace as though figuring out the play.

Lyria walked over and sat on the table near Jace. "Really?" she asked. "Really," Jace replied very matter-of-factly. She let that sink in for a moment then continued. "Those two" pointing at Sam and Dean, "Van" Van genuflected mockingly in acknowledgement, "me" she crossed her arms behind her head and relaxed even further, "we are totally hot. I, in fact, have been noted as hot on five of the seven continents, and that's only because I've only been to five."

Jace's posture suddenly inverted. She dropped her arms so that her forearms were on her knees leaned in close to Lyria so that she was inches away and said with painful intensity, "and I'd cheerfully carve out one of my very hot cheekbones for fifteen minutes of what you and Cass have had for the past week."

Jace abruptly got up and started pacing. It was impressive to watch. She stopped between the tables, with Sam and Dean to her right and Vanessa to her left. Lyria swung around on the table until she was facing Jace again, her face a study of curiosity. Jace put her arms out to her sides and started speaking again.

"Look at us," she said as she pointed to her left and right. "Really look at us and not through that doe-eyed lens you usually use. The four of us are nothing more than a collection of scar tissue, held together with the psychic equivalent of duct tape and twisty-ties. You've been in all our heads, you know all of this.

What you and Cass have is the North Star, it's what every human secretly wants, that connection, that absolute joy in another person. Few people get it and people like us, as banged up as we are; we don't have a chance. We're only still standing because we're too stupid to stay down when we get knocked down; we're walking around out of sheer habit and cussidness."

Her voice gentled. "No one's ever going to look at me the way Cass does you or tell me I have the beauty of a dragonfly, never. So I think you should give us hot. It's all we've got and it's little enough. So how 'bout it? Can we put this topic away and get on with things? I like pie too, you know." Jace fell back in her chair and crossed her arms, daring anyone to dispute her.

Lyria put her arms around her drawn up knees and stared thoughtfully into space. The others didn't speak, each busy recovering from the uncomfortable amount of honesty free-floating about the room. Then Lyria jumped down and started walking toward Restran, still drooling in his little chair. Halfway there, she turned around and smiled at Jace. "It is the kindness of a sister to share her pain to teach me important truths."

Jace snorted and gestured toward Restran, "Fuck that, and get on with it."

Lyria just kept smiling. "I don't know why I keep forgetting how wise you are. Oh, I know," and she made her eyes very wide and an 'O' of her mouth, "it must be 'cause you're so HOT!" She giggled, wrinkled her nose at everyone then sighed. She looked at the four of them and her face glowed a little with tenderness. "But you do not see yourself as clearly as you see me. The four of you are not just the sum of the pain you have suffered. You're also the sum of all of the courage you've shown and the many times you have determined to try one more time to make things right. When I look at you I don't see just hot; I see beautiful." No one looked her in the eye.

"Bon" she said after a moment. "This topic is done. But it has now occurred to me that I have not introduced everyone. That was ill-mannered of me. Jace, remind me to do so later. Back to work. Van?"

Vanessa got up and they walked up to Restran together. "Wow, that's really unappetizing," said Lyria. Vanessa nodded. She turned to Lyria, shook back her hair and said, "Okay, hook me up." Lyria drew her right hand down Vanessa's face, from her forehead to her chin. When she was done, Vanessa blinked and suddenly exposed black demon eyes. Dean tensed; Sam finally had the piece he needed to figure out who she was.

Vanessa said, "Time for Sleeping Beauty to wake up. Do it."

Lyria snapped her fingers and Restran awakened, with a lot of disgusting snorts and groans and a spit on the floor. "Ick," Lyria said, then stepped back. Restran's bleary drunken gaze swung left and he saw Vanessa.

"Hey Zaf, hey man. What's up? Why are you runnin' with the plain chick the boss sent me to keep tabs on? And why am I tied up?" Restran smiled up at Vanessa as he spoke in his unusually high-pitched voice, apparently not feeling at all threatened with her in the room. He sounded more like a rather whiny stoner than a top level demon and seemed to believe he and Vanessa were allies. Vanessa smiled back, a wide playful grin that changed her rather ethereal attractiveness to a more earthy and approachable sort. She sauntered forward, still grinning and planted her boot on the edge of his chair between his legs and uncomfortably close to his junk. She leaned forward without saying a word. His smile slipped a little. He took on a more servile tone. "Sorry, Zafen, didn't mean to annoy you, would never want to do that, no one would. Just untie me man and let's get out. I saw the Winchesters coming in here and we're strictly hands off there. Listen, Crowley's offering a reward for anyone who can put the Winchesters and the girl in the same place. Let's get the proof and get out of here – we'll split it. That's fair, right?"

Vanessa just kept smiling, her black eyes reflecting Restran's shiny, sweaty face. Suddenly, she hooked her boot under the chair seat and flipped him back on the ground, then walked around and put her boot on his chest and leaned over, her forearm on her bent knee, the boot heel grinding into the demon's chest.

"Fair, Res, do you really think so? After all, I was here first." Vanessa never stopped smiling but the smile slowly grew to look quite savage, especially in combination with those depthless black eyes. "I wouldn't worry about it if I were you, you won't be seeing Crowley again. Or, should I say, you hope you never see Crowley again." She took her boot off his chest and smashed him in the face with it for emphasis, then planted it back there again and leaned heavily in until Restran began gasping with a combination of pain and lack of air.

"Here's how it's going to go, Res. You have a choice to make. You can answer my friend Lyria's questions." At this point Lyria waved and smiled in a friendly manner. "After you have satisfied her curiosity she will end you in a relatively humane manner and we'll return the meat suit you're currently wearing to his home." Restran sputtered helplessly below her and she absentmindedly kicked him in the head and said, "Shhh. Not done."

"If for some insane reason you decide to stay loyal to Crowley, who, by the way, would never return the favor, we will keep you alive for a couple of weeks while spreading the word that you've decided to throw in with Lyria. Then, when he's nice and pissed, we'll drop your sorry, pathetic moronic demon ass at Crowley's doorstep and let you explain to him that it was all a giant misunderstanding."

Restran had never been known for his intelligence, his value was more in his complete focus on any given task and his relentless persistence. Still, the little hamster wheels in his head were obviously turning as he tried to figure out what was going on. Finally he said, "Zaf, I thought we were buds. Why you wanna do me like this?"

Vanessa's gentle smile sent a severe shiver down Sam and Dean's spines. "Because, Res, you spineless, puss-filled piece of paranormal garbage," her eyes flipped suddenly from black to blue-tinged grey, "I'm not Zaf. My name is Vanessa. And know this, shithead, if you weren't wearing some poor guy's meat suit neither of those options would be available to you because I would be dragging you somewhere very quiet where I would just peel small strips of your skin from your body and feed them to you one at a time." She pulled a pocket knife from her back pocket, flipped it open and scraped it across Restran's stubbly cheek, "In fact maybe I'll do it anyway; what's one more dead stranger?"

She scraped the knife back and forth lovingly for a second and then patted his cheek and said, "So, option one or two. Pick quickly or I'll ask my friends to turn their backs and you and I'll just slip away."

"Uh, what were they again?" Sweat was now dripping unattractively from Restran's face and pooling in his armpits, if the growing stains there were any indication. Vanessa sighed. "Talk and die. Don't talk, Crowley. Pick one."

"The first, the first. Not Crowley, please not Crowley." He was getting teary and everyone was a little embarrassed for him. Lyria touched Vanessa on her shoulder and rubbed it. Vanessa straightened, put her hand over Lyria's and said, "It's okay, sweetie. No worries. He's all yours."

Her posture very precise, Vanessa then walked back to the table where Jace sat. Sam never took his eyes off her and as she sank down into a chair their eyes met. She sent him a knowing smirk edged with pain because he now knew why she was familiar and she knew he knew.

Jace leaned toward Vanessa and smirked, "Lyria's not the only one who needs a nap. 'Spineless puss-filled piece of paranormal garbage'? You only alliterate like that when you're tired." Van smirked briefly in response, grateful for Jace's casual flippancy.

Lyria righted Restran's chair with a wave of her hand and questioned the demon for fifteen minutes on how Crowley was reacting to her campaign and what he might be planning. None of the information was particularly surprising for anyone who knew Crowley, as all of them did. He seemed to be meeting regularly with Hannah, which suggested that each was keeping open the option of an alliance against Lyria. It was all pretty standard stuff but Dean noticed Lyria's whole demeanor changed when Restran started talking about Crowley's interest in the Maiden of Hell.

Sam leaned toward Cass. "Who is the Maiden of Hell? I've never heard of her." He turned toward Dean, "Have you?" Dean nodded and at the same time Cass answered, "The Maiden of Hell is an angel named Arene. She was born in Hell and has abided there for all of her very long life. Her duty is to bring succor to the humans who are damned and trapped in Hell."

Dean leaned toward Sam, punching him in the side with his elbow as he asked Cass, "She's sucking the humans, really?"

Sam closed his eyes in embarrassment for a moment. "Succor, Dean. It means comfort, relief, right Cass?"

Not having paid any attention to this byplay but keeping his eyes on Lyria, he nodded, "Yes, the Maiden goes among the damned offering them moments of peace and comfort. It is her lifelong penance."

Sam asked, "What is she doing penance for?" Cass looked at him briefly before looking back at Lyria, "That is not for me to say."

Lyria was now grilling Restran about what he thought Crowley's plans for the Maiden were. All he seemed to know was that Crowley thought she had information about Lyria and he was trying to figure out how to extract the information from her. He had considered torture but thought it wouldn't be worth a revolt in Hell so was looking for a spell that would work. Lyria asked him why Crowley thought she had significant information. He said a little nervously, "Well, he didn't actually tell me this, I just kind of overheard it."

At this point, Lyria put up a finger to silence him and asked, while turning to glare at Dean, "so, what you're saying is that you were overlistening, right?" Restran looked a little confused but said, "Sure, whatever." Lyria smiled smugly over at Dean; Dean just rolled his eyes at her. "He said something about since after she'd been gone for twenty years you traded her back to Hell in return for John Winchester being released to Heaven, she had to have information he could use."

Lyria said, "Uh oh." Jace and Vanessa shifted in their chairs. Cass remained calm and smiled at Lyria lovingly. Sam and Dean shot out of their chairs looking frantic.

Sighing a little, Lyria put up a finger to Sam and Dean to signal them to wait a minute and turned back to Restran. Within a few minutes she felt she had extracted as much as he had to give; to be sure, she turned to Vanessa and arched an eyebrow. Vanessa nodded.

Lyria turned back to the demon and without another word placed her hand on his forehead. He lost consciousness as the silvery light floated around his head. She waved her hand and now he was unbound and lying on the floor with a pillow under his head. She knelt down and again placed her hand on his forehead; the silvery light traveled up and down his body and then faded away. She stood up and turned to the others.

To Sam and Dean she said, "Be right with you, promise." She looked at Jace and Vanessa. They looked at each other then back at her, simultaneously shaking their heads 'no.' Lyria huffed a little then whipped out her cell phone and punched in a number. "Hi, Poppy. Sending you a package. . . . East Coast team . . . Just a bit longer, there's been a bit of a development as you saw." Frowning exaggeratedly at Vanessa and Jace she said, "They want to stay and party so the package will be unaccompanied . . . . I know, I know." She waved an arm casually and the unconscious man on the floor disappeared. At the same time she hissed, "I'm not a baby, Poppy. I know what I'm doing. I'll be home soon. Do we have ice-cream for the pie?" She smiled. "I love you too, Poppy. See you soon."

Hanging up the phone, she turned to the seething Winchester brothers. Their patience was meager enough in the normal course of things but when it came to family matters it was completely non-existent.

Sam spoke first. "John Winchester, was the demon talking about our father, John Winchester?" Lyria nodded. "So you traded this Arene, this Maiden of Hell for our father, to send him to Heaven? Is he in Heaven?"

Lyria rubbed the back of her neck. Sam just looked at her with a kind of desperate hope. Dean looked angry, as though he was determined not to hope at all. Pain was pumping off them like a furnace fire and suddenly the secret didn't seem worth keeping. She would just need to talk around certain pieces of the truth, that's all.

She smiled gently at the two of them. "Yes, your father is in Heaven, and he's been reunited with your mother." Sam and Dean abruptly sank back into their seats and Sam put his face in his hands.

Lyria continued. "I did not trade Arene, the Maiden, for your father. Cass told you that Arene has spent her whole life in service to the damned in Hell as penance. That's not quite correct. She has left Hell exactly twice. Once, during the late twelfth century she spent three months at the court of Eleanor of Aquitaine. No one really knows why, a vacation maybe?" She shrugged, then smiled. "Ever since, she's spoken French and worn only these elaborate medieval gowns."

She paused, sighed, continued. "The second time was twenty years ago. Twenty years ago God asked her as part of her penance to guard me, to keep me safe until I was grown. She accepted the charge," she smiled a little ruefully, "but there wasn't a day of that twenty years that she didn't wish she was back in Hell. It is her home, after all. I let Crowley and Hannah think I was offering her in exchange for Hell releasing your father and Heaven accepting him when actually she wanted to go and agreed to coordinate the timing with me so it looked as though I was turning her over."

Sam had a thought. "Why was this so desirable to both Crowley and Hannah?

For a minute it looked as though Lyria wouldn't answer him and when she did the answer didn't make anything clearer. She just said, "Each of them is afraid she has a better claim than they have, neither of them have the stones to take her on and each is more comfortable knowing exactly where she is and exactly what she's doing."

She held up a hand to forestall any more questions but Dean wasn't deterred. "Why? Why would you care about getting John Winchester to Heaven?"

She didn't answer the question, merely replied with one of her own. "Can you think of anyone who deserves it more? He did, after all, sire and raise the men who saved this planet. It seems little enough repayment."

Lyria was done with this and turned toward Cass with the idea of acting on her next idea but before she could, Dean said her name, rather softly. She turned toward him questioningly and he said, "Thanks." Sam spoke then. "Yes, thank you. This is . . . . I don't even know what to say, but thanks."

Lyria looked at them with no real expression for a minute then frowned at them in annoyance. "Don't do that. Don't thank me. It's creepy. You never thank anybody. Just cut it out." Sam and Dean looked bewildered. Jace and Vanessa laughed and waved them to sit down and have something to drink.

Dean turned to Sam and asked, "Are we really ungrateful? Do we not thank people enough?" Sam grimaced a little and responded, "We could probably say it a little more often than we do." Dean thought about it for a second then just said, "Noted."

Lyria ignored them and walked to Cass, grabbed his lapels and kissed him. She twinkled up at him. "'You're so cute I'd like to wear you like a suit. I think you'd look really good on me.'" Cass was a little bewildered. "I'm sorry, my love. I don't understand what you're trying to tell me."

Dean threw back a large shot, laughed and said, "Cass they're song lyrics. If you're allowed," he added snarkily, the best response is 'Thanks.'" Lyria just wrinkled her nose at Dean and he mimicked her. They both laughed.

Lyria snuggled into Cass's arms and he wrapped them around her and rested his chin on her hair. They spoke quietly, too quietly for the other four to hear them. Then the two of them approached the table and Jace kicked out a chair for Cass. He sat down; Lyria poured herself a whiskey and hopped up on to the table next to him. He placed his hand palm up on her nearest thigh and she put her hand in it.

Jace spoke. "Plan?"

Lyria looked into the glass of whiskey and answered, "Evolving." She turned to Cass and said, "I think I must ask a boon of you, my 'veray parfit gentil knight.'"

Cass didn't respond right away, just looked up at Lyria. Then, "Well, the last 'boon' I granted you broke the heart I didn't even know I had into about twelve equal pieces. This has to be easier than that."

* * *

 **CHAPTER 9**

Lyria looked sadly down into Cass's eyes and no one spoke for a moment. Even Dean could feel the emotion silently pouring from them. Then Lyria squeezed Cass's hand and leaned forward to place her lips on his brow. Cass closed his eyes briefly, opened them and smiled. "As you wish." A tear dropped down his cheek. It wasn't his.

Lyria jumped down from the table and paced away from it. She scrubbed her face with her hands, stood for a moment then turned and walked back. "Okay. No more malingering." She smiled slightly. "Cass, I need you to get to Arene and take possession of her memories of me. I'd do it but I have most of the same ones and they would end up getting all mixed up." She tossed a glowing stone to him; he caught it and put it in a pocket of his trench coat. "That'll get you to her and back. While you're on your way I'll let her know you're coming so she'll be prepared." She put a hand on his shoulder and added. "She's not terribly warm; don't take it personally." She moved her hand around to the back of his neck and gave it a quick rub. "Best get on with it. Time is not our friend anymore, the faithless bitch."

Cass nodded and got up, hands in his pockets. He looked intently at Lyria. "Will you still be here when I return?"

Lyria, surprised, answered. "Of course. I would not leave without saying goodbye. In the shows that's always when the best kissing happens." Cass half smiled, gave her a swift kiss on the cheek and without looking at the others walked out the bar's front door into the late night gloom.

For a beat Lyria watched the door swing shut then turned back to everyone else. "Step two." She proceeded to do several pirouettes, all the while spinning away from the table. As she spun her clothing changed from the comfortable jeans, flat-heeled leather boots and vest she'd been wearing all evening to a severely plain but stunning black velvet dress, squarely cut low across her bosom, snug in the long sleeves and the torso to the waist then full and sweeping down to mid-calf. At the same time her hairstyle changed to a simple maiden-like swing of hair to just below her shoulders rather than the thick, jaunty braid she had been sporting. She retained the two small white braids at her temple.

Lyria finished her turns then looked down at herself and smoothed the fabric of the beautiful velvet gown. She made a comically exaggerated curtsey down to the floor to Sam, Dean, Jace and Vanessa, then sprang up again. It was at that point Dean noticed she was barefoot.

"Um, where are your shoes? You know you're supposed to be wearing shoes don't you?"

Lyria didn't look up, just continued smoothing the dress, the sleeves and the skirt, swaying a little back and forth, enjoying the swing of the skirt. "I like girl dresses." Swish. "I don't like girl shoes." She frowned down at her feet. "Except my boots of course." She looked up at Dean then and said sincerely, "Girl shoes are evil. Really, truly evil. I bet they have their own sector in Hell." She sent a sidelong look toward Jace and Vanessa. In response, they simultaneously swung their legs up over the tabletop and dropped their feet on it with dual 'thwacks.' Each examined her high heels with affection and satisfaction then looked back at Lyria. Jace gave her the finger. Lyria laughed.

She stopped abruptly. "Let's get on with this. Stay where you are," looking around at the four of them. "She doesn't need to know you're here."

Though her clothes had changed, Lyria's jewelry had remained the same, including her trio of necklaces although she had had the forethought to attach a spell to the amulet so that in the off chance she saw Sam and Dean it would be invisible to them. She opened the oval locket and out floated an image of a woman. She was surreally beautiful with her masses of white blond hair in thick braids wound around her head like a crown. Her eyes were lake blue as was the fitted velvet gown with sleeves that were tight to the elbows and then widened out like the ends of trumpets. Her expression was serene, bordering on glacial and every feature was rendered with an intimidating symmetry. She was like the love child of Elsa and Barbie crossed with some tapestry rendering of a queen.

Lyria looked at the image with a slight smile then waved her hand and the image morphed into one slightly more mobile. Sam was the first to realize they were now looking at the real Arene. As she saw Lyria her facial features hardened into an expression of distaste. Lyria seemed unaffected and smiled at her saying, "Hello, Arene. You look well and I hope all is well with you."

Arene ignored the greeting. Speaking with a heavy French accent she asked, "Why have you contacted me? You are supposed to be working. I must return to my own work."

Lyria replied calmly, "I am working and everything is moving along as necessary. I have contacted you because it has come to my attention that Crowley has been expressing an interest in you I find unacceptable and which warrants action." Lyria's diction during this speech was much more formal that it had been for the first part of the night and the French accent that periodically came and went in her speech was now more pronounced and consistent.

Arene dismissed Lyria's concern and with an arrogant curl to her lip announced, "The usurper does not concern me and should not concern you. If he should be so insolent as to approach me I will deal with him. You will return to your own duty." Then she actually sniffed.

Lyria's lips quirked but she maintained her calm and slightly deferential manner. "I have no doubt of your abilities in that regard, Arene, and if it ever came to a cage match between you and Crowley all my money would be on you for certain." Her mouth quirked again but she coughed slightly and continued. "However, this situation does not suit me." Her tone became steely although it never lost its measured and respectful quality. "It does not suit me for him to be paying this kind of attention to you and I need to resolve the situation immediately."

Lyria's smile became less pleasant and more shark-like. "The whole thing has me quite distracted. I feel I will continue to be distracted until the issue is addressed to my satisfaction. That will result in less time for me to focus on completing my mission. We wouldn't want that, now would we?" She just continued to smile while Arene looked witheringly at her. The standoff made everyone else slightly nervous.

Arene raised her brows, sniffed again and abruptly relented. "What do you wish from me?"

Lyria relaxed fractionally. "Nothing that will take any time or effort at all. Someone I trust implicitly is coming to you and will be there any minute. The angel will take custody of your memories of me. When he has done so I will contact Crowley myself to let him know that you will not be able to assist him and that he is to keep his distance. See, no trouble at all." She gestured with her hands, palms up as though to say, 'nothing to it.'

Arene just looked at her for a long moment, her gaze wintry and distant as an Antarctic landscape. Lyria never lost her smile, just stood very straight with her hands now at her waist waiting for Arene's concurrence. Finally, Arene gave Lyria an abrupt nod. Lyria took in air through her nose and slowly released it through her mouth and nodded back.

"Merci, Arene. I am grateful for your cooperation. This shall all be over momentarily and the memories will be returned to you as soon as it is safe to do so."

Arene just looked at Lyria as though she had suddenly encountered a rather unpleasant smell. "It is not necessary. They are not important."

This time, Lyria drew in a breath abruptly, but gave no other outward reaction to Arene's statement. Even so, Dean sensed that Arene's words had hurt her quite a bit.

Lyria merely replied, "Practical as always. Be well. Bonne chance."

Arene said only, "Don't contact me again." Her image faded out. Lyria closed her locket and just stood there holding it in her hand and staring off into space. Dean got up, walked over to stand next to her and said, in a gesture of solidarity, "Boy, what a bitch."

Lyria turned to him and smiled. She then threw an uppercut at him that was so powerful it lifted him ten feet in the air and fifteen feet across the room to smash against the far wall. He fell to the floor and shook his head to stop the ringing in his ears. Lyria walked toward him and when she was standing over him said, "That's no way to talk about someone else's mother."

* * *

 **CHAPTER 10**

Sam ran over to Dean, who had decided to just stay on the floor for a while. Concern warred with amusement as Sam stammeringly asked Dean if he was alright, trying not to laugh. Dean just glared at him and rubbed the back of his head. He took a moment to admire Jace's legs as she sauntered over to them although they were a little fuzzy. Jace offered her hand; Dean grasped her forearm and she easily pulled him upright. She smirked at him.

"You know she pulled that punch, right? If she hadn't, you'd have landed in China . . . during the Opium Wars." She patted Dean on the cheek, laughed and strolled back to her chair. Vanessa had stayed in her seat and was now looking at Lyria with concern. Lyria stood with her back to everyone, a young girl in a pretty black dress, with an air of sadness and solitude about her. As Dean and Sam sat back down, Dean rubbing his chin as if to see whether it was broken, Lyria started speaking. She did not turn around and it seemed more as though she was just speaking her thoughts aloud rather than talking to anyone in particular.

"Just before Lucifer's fall, they say God pondered how he might forestall it. He thought that if Lucifer knew a great love he might then be more accepting of God's love for the humans. So God arranged for Lucifer to be given a Mark of Union and gave it as well to a great archangel named Judith."

She turned and looked at Dean and Sam with a gentle smile. "The marks, like Cass and I have, and your parents, are not marks of destiny or fate, you know. Your parents were not forced to fall in love any more than Cass and I were. The marks enable those who have them to see the other as his or her best self, see the singular beauty of that other soul." She sighed. "Your parents were able to see how special each was and appreciate it in a very rare way, as they do up to today." She smiled and then walked over to a nearby empty table and jumped up to sit there, swinging her legs back and forth in the long black skirt.

"Judith was a sparkling celestial force; bold and loving with a passion for her family and enough compassion for every living being. She and Lucifer exploded into each other like colliding comets." She looked down at her hands, now playing with her necklaces. Her voice hardened. "But Lucifer's love was as selfish as everything else about him and he was not dissuaded from falling. In fact, he commanded that Judith fall with him; they would rule Hell together as consorts in open defiance of his father's manipulations."

Lyria absently tucked her legs up to the side and pleated the skirt of her dress between her fingers as she continued. "Judith had an unbearable choice; abandon her family or deny her mate. She found she could do neither. At Lucifer's demand she fell but as she did she immolated herself." Dean opened his mouth, Lyria looked at him and said quietly, "She set herself on fire." Dean looked a little sick at that.

"She fell as she was eaten alive by angel fire, by the time she landed in Hell she was just ash. But in the ash was Arene, an angel born not in Heaven but in Hell. An angel who has never even seen Heaven." There was a bitter note at that.

Lyria looked at Dean. "She had but a moment, a single moment in time to make her choice." She held out her right palm, "good" then her left, "evil." She looked down at her palms and then back up at Dean as she let her arms drop to her sides. "She chose to live eternity in service to the humans her father had condemned and has been faithful to that task ever since. She has never even met him. She has spent millennia after millennia bringing comfort to the tormented." Her eyes glistened a little as she held Dean's gaze. "If she had nothing left over for me, that wasn't really her fault was it? She did the best she could." She seemed to be looking for reassurance.

Dean was moved as he had rarely been in his life. He hoped she could see in his face he understood the pain she was feeling and sought for some words that would do more good than harm. But before he could speak the front door opened and they all turned toward it as Cass entered the bar.

Cass strode toward them looking only at Lyria. He pulled her down from the table, put a hand on each side of her face, looked into her eyes and gave her an achingly tender kiss. The others tried to look at anything else but them.

Lyria broke the kiss and frowned at Cass. "Is that a pity kiss? Because if it is, I'll be happy to break your nose for it. I'll do it too. I knocked Dean into that wall over there." She gestured toward the far wall.

Cass didn't let go, just looked at her with a slight smile and said, "Well, I'm sure Dean deserved it." He paused for a moment, just touched his forehead to hers before leaning back and smiling at her again. "I do not pity you. I am full of awe for you." He kissed her again.

She grabbed his wrists and asked, "Does that make you . . . awe-ful?" She laughed delightedly. Sam, Jace and Van groaned. Dean laughed. Lyria looked at Dean happily and then back at Cass. "See, I told you I was funny." Cass smiled lovingly down at her. "No, sweetheart, you're really not."

He took her hands and held her away as he took a look at her in her black dress. "You are not funny; you are the loveliest being I've ever seen." He twinkled at her. "And your feet are very, very sexy."

She laughed again. "They really are, aren't they? You don't mind if I don't wear the girl shoes do you?" Cass just smiled, "I have no idea what that means but I would be perfectly happy if you were always just as you are at this moment."

Lyria smiled but stepped away and put her hands on her hips. "Well, I think I'm hilarious." She looked around at the others but what she saw on their faces made her rethink the idea of pursuing an argument about her comic abilities or lack thereof. Instead, she looked at Vanessa and said, "So, next move is to parley with Crowley. Suggestions?"

Vanessa considered Lyria for a moment, her head tipped to the right and her whiskey glass in her hand. She smiled. "Flirt with him. It'll get what you want from him soonest."

Jace nodded but Sam, Dean and Castiel grimaced with revulsion. Sam spoke first.

"Are you nuts? Why would you suggest such a thing? He's the freaking king of Hell, why would you even think that would work?"

Sam instantly knew he had made a serious error and frantically tried to figure out how to walk back the last comment. Vanessa saved him.

"First, there is no heterosexual male, no matter how repulsive, who doesn't believe it when a woman signals she's attracted to him." Cass looked confused; Dean just nodded.

"Second," said Jace, ignoring Sam, Dean and Cass and addressing Lyria and Vanessa. "To someone like Crowley, power is very appealing. Power and mystery kid, you've got bagsful of power and mystery and those are two very seductive qualities. He will respond to you. I'm sure he's thought of you since you met and not always as an adversary."

The guys all looked as though they might hurl at any moment but Vanessa was nodding in agreement and Lyria was looking thoughtful. She tapped a finger on her lips as she paced around in thought.

Dean interrupted her reflections by asking, "Can you do that good an acting job? A smarmy little dick like Crowley, and I do mean little dick, can you keep your gag reflex under control long enough to get it done?" He looked around at Cass and Sam and added, "Am I right?"

Cass and Sam nodded vehemently. Lyria just looked at him in surprise and Vanessa and Jace shook their heads just as vehemently. Jace spoke first, looking at Lyria and Vanessa.

"No denying, dude's got game."

Dean recoiled. "What?! What?! Are we talking about the same guy? Short, tubby, more evil than Muzak?!"

Jace ignored him and said musingly, "There's the voice, the accent and he does have a presence, you can't deny that. A kind of world-weary air that's very attractive."

Vanessa picked up the thread. "And the way he moves, like he'd be really good at dancing, and dance-like activities."

Lyria finished it off, looking a little dreamily off into the distance. "He seems like he knows stuff, like sex stuff."

Cass did not care for this at all. "I know sex stuff," he said, a little offended.

Lyria turned to him and placed her palms on his chest. She looked up at him and said, "Of course you do. You know the best stuff." She smiled up at him but he did not smile back, just lifted an eyebrow and said, "I may not get a lot of nuances but I know when I'm being pacified." He stepped back and as her hands dropped she put them on her hips.

"Not pacified, just reassured. You are everything I need in one adorable, slightly disheveled package. But I have to admit that before we met I did have Crowley on my bucket list . . . . along with a lot of others I've since taken off, like a red-haired man, a man who lived on an island, a man with tattoos . . ." she paused in her recitation of possible sex partners and looked at Sam and Dean, Vanessa and Jace, "so I could make comparisons, see how they might be different, you know, sexually." She smiled slightly as though that was a completely normal endeavor.

Dean asked sarcastically, "How many farm animals on that list of yours? I'm sure you'd want to 'explore' the differences between sheep and goats, for example."

Lyria blinked at him in severe distress. "Dean, you must not have sex with the animals! They lack the ability to consent and consent is very, very important. Vanessa explained it all to me weeks ago. Promise me you'll stop having sex with the sheep and goats!"

Dean spluttered at her while Cass looked at Dean as though reevaluating their friendship and Jace and Vanessa just shook their heads at him, feigning disappointment. Sam was torn between defending Dean from the ridiculous charge and his own escaping gasps of hilarity. Then Lyria turned her head slightly toward him, winked and flicked her index finger across her nose in homage to "The Sting."

Dean was still angrily denying any untoward knowledge of the sexual organs of farm animals when Vanessa, Jace and Lyria burst into laughter. Dean straightened from his defensive crouch and snarled, "Ha. Ha. Very funny." They couldn't seem to stop laughing. Sam had turned his face around so Dean couldn't see him struggle not to laugh. Dean snapped, "Cut it out or I'm belting someone and I'm not caring who right now!"

Sam, Lyria, Jace and Vanessa worked at rearranging their facial features to comply. Cass still just looked at Dean a little warily. Lyria took Cass's hand and, with a slight tremor still in her voice said, "It was just a little joke on Dean, mon coeur. You have nothing to worry about." Cass looked like he was still thinking it over.

Lyria shook their joined hands to bring his attention back to her and said, "I'll only do this flirting thing if you can make me a promise." She looked at him seriously and he squinted at her in question. "You must promise me," she raised their joined hands and kissed his while never taking her eyes from his, "promise me you'll be jealous." She looked at him expectantly.

Standing behind her, Sam and Dean were nodding their heads exaggeratedly 'yes' and Jace and Vanessa stood on either side of Lyria with their arms crossed, staring at him as though they expected him to fail what had apparently become a test.

Cass looked down thoughtfully into Lyria's eyes, lifted their hands to his lips and kissed her hand as she had his. He smiled down at her and said, "Of course. I will be wildly jealous."

Lyria gave him a little squint-eyed stare. "It is entirely possible you're patronizing me." She paused. "But I don't care." She grinned at Cass, then spread it around to all the others.

After a moment, Lyria walked a few paces away to the dance floor. With a wave she brought the old piano and piano bench from the stage down to where she was. Another wave and there was a decanter, two glasses and a trio of lit tapers in a silver candelabra set on top of the piano. She looked at all of it then nodded in satisfaction. She waved Jace and Vanessa over.

"Suggestions?" she asked. Jace whipped something out of the back pocket of her jeans, opened it and swiped it across Lyria's lips. Vanessa flipped her head over and back to demonstrate to Lyria how to fluff up her hair and Lyria imitated her. Vanessa nodded, then brushed a few stray bits back from her face. Jace and Vanessa stood back and looked critically at Lyria, then nodded simultaneously. Jace gave her a thumbs up. Vanessa smiled and said, "You are fascinating, mysterious and immensely powerful. That wanker doesn't stand a chance."

Cass, Dean and Sam were sitting again and Cass had joined Sam and Dean in what was turning out to be a marathon night of whiskey drinking. As Cass watched Vanessa and Jace prepare Lyria to flirt with Crowley he thought to himself that he really didn't care for this at all. "I really don't care for this at all." He said into his glass. Dean slapped him on the back and said, "You're screwed, my friend. Might as well relax and enjoy the show. I am." Dean suddenly realized he wasn't quite sober but didn't care.

Vanessa and Jace returned to their seats. Vanessa leaned her elbows on the table and looked intently at Lyria. Jace, more relaxed, crossed one leg over the other and picked up her whiskey glass.

Lyria walked over to the piano, spread her skirt with both hands and sat down. The candlelight played across her hair and she lifted and then lowered her arm until all around was in shadows. She said, to no one in particular, "Let's get this Skype date going." She lifted her right hand but just as she did she heard Jace call her name. She looked over her shoulder in query.

Jace leaned on her forearms on the table and said, "Lean forward as much as possible." She looked down at herself, then at Lyria. Lyria considered Jace's bosom thoughtfully, looked down at hers then nodded and turned back around.

She waved her hand and an image of a doorway appeared, floating above the piano. Rather than looking at it she looked down and began playing, first a riff of the keys, then the beginning bars of Strangers in the Night, singing the lyrics quietly to herself as she swayed a bit. After a few moments, Crowley appeared in the doorway with an expression halfway between wary and curious. Lyria continued playing the old Frank Sinatra tune, leaning ever so slightly forward at the waist. Back at his table, Cass frowned into his whiskey glass.

Crowley broke first. With an ingratiating smile he said, "Lyria, So good of you to call. I've been hoping we would see each other again. Our first meeting was so . . . stimulating."

Lyria stopped playing, returned Crowley's smile and leaned a little more forward. She responded artlessly. "Did you think so as well? I confess I did not expect to find you as impressive in person as I did." Lyria ran her fingers along the keys and they tinkled in a charming way, drawing Crowley's attention to her graceful hands. He gave her a long look, moving from her hands across her breasts then back up to her face in a way that made all three of the men want to pound something. The women just smirked into their whiskey glasses.

Lyria smiled guilelessly up at Crowley's image then back down at the piano as she began to play again, something soft and sensual. Cass recognized it first. It was Etta James' At Last and he knew it for what it was, a reassurance to him. It was one of the few 'slow songs' she really liked and so liked to sing for him. He finally relaxed, set down his whiskey glass and looked at her as she played 'their' song, as the soft light played across her hair and skin, the sumptuous gown sparkling a little. He determined to keep for all time that one image of her sitting in the candlelight.

Crowley again felt compelled to break the silence and Dean took a moment to be impressed at Lyria's instinctive talent for manipulating him, spiking his interest with nothing more than a sidelong smile.

Crowley asked, "Impressive? I'm flattered that a lovely young woman such as yourself holds such an opinion of my humble self."

Lyria looked up at Crowley's image with a disbelieving smile. "There's nothing at all humble about you Rod, that's what I find so exciting. I like a man who knows his worth and appreciates mine. I believe you do . . . appreciate my worth."

Without waiting for a response she continued, "I like the name 'Rod' by the way; it's so . . . evocative. And I like calling you by a name no others use.

You should know, by the way, that Hannah sent an emissary to make an offer meant to inspire me to ally with her against you. It seems only fair to allow you an equal opportunity to 'inspire' me." Lyria ended the song then stood up and moved around the piano, Crowley's image floated along so it was always in front of her. Then she hopped up on the piano and Crowley saw she was barefoot. A curious expression crossed his face, as though he felt charmed but against his will and was disturbed by the distraction of it. Lyria crossed her legs at the ankles, put her hands in her lap and then gestured with her left toward the decanter beside her.

"I have what I'm told is an excellent bottle of Craig, circa 1789. I thought you might join me for a drink or two if you're so inclined."

"I would be quite inclined to join you for a drink, even if all you had to offer was some Nestlé's Quick. Just say when and where." Crowley replied.

"I think here would be just right, say an hour? Shall I send a car?"

"No need," Crowley replied with a smile, spreading his hands in front of him, palms up. "Just tell me where you are and I'll be right there."

Lyria smiled back and ran the index finger of her right hand down the side of her throat down to the hollow. "Let's just say that in one hour's time you will know exactly where to find me.

Oh, and Rod, one of the other qualities I admire so much about you is your ingenuity." Crowley raised a brow in question. "Clever to consider it might be useful to mine Arene's memories for information about me." Lyria sent him a gamin grin. "So sorry but those memories are no longer there. I had them removed a half an hour ago. In the spirit of mutual appreciation I wanted to save you time and energy in what would be a fruitless activity."

Lyria continued to smile but Crowley was smart enough to notice the change in its nature. "Here's the thing, cher. If you attempt any form of coercion or do anything to cause the Maiden any discomfort at all, I will know about it and my response will be . . . severe." She let that hang in the air for a minute before concluding, "Besides, if you were to distract the Maiden from her duties she might take a little more time to ponder the throne of Hell. She refers to you as 'the usurper' after all." Lyria smiled a little pityingly at Crowley.

"Imagine, Rod. Fighting on two fronts. That would strain even your impressive ingenuity, I would think." She hopped down from the piano in a flutter of fabric and leaned toward Crowley's image, her hands on her hip, "Just something to think about until we meet. One decanter, two glasses, one hour. See you then." She waved her hand as Crowley opened his mouth to reply and his image was gone. She just stood there.

Dean leaned toward Sam and Cass and said, "Hey, I was thinking, if Arene is Lyria's mother, should she really be called the Maiden of Hell? Just sayin'." Castiel and Sam gave him irritated and dismissive looks but from across the room Lyria, without turning around, replied, "You have a point but 'Madam of Hell' doesn't have quite the same connotation and I wouldn't recommend you suggest it to her. The results are likely to be unfortunate for you."

Lyria then turned and walked across the room, looking at Cass with a great deal of sadness in her eyes. She said, simply, "It is time." Cass stood up as she approached and reached across the table to take her hand, "I know." And suddenly they both were gone.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 11**

Sam and Dean looked over at Jace and Vanessa who were speaking quietly. They kept silent, watching as the two went through three quick rounds of Rochambeau. Jace won and saluted Vanessa by raising her whiskey glass to her forehead. Vanessa grimaced in return then turned to look at the guys and sigh. She turned her chair to face them and Jace did as well. Jace slouched in her chair and gazed at a point a little above their heads; Vanessa looked at each of the brothers in turn and sighed again.

Vanessa seemed to be considering how to start when Dean interrupted her train of thought by asking, "Where'd they go? What did she mean by 'it is time'?" He gave the statement a mockingly serious tone. He really was quite buzzed by this point. That itself was pretty unusual. His tolerance for alcohol was legendary.

Vanessa paused for a second, looked over at Sam, then back at Dean and said, "She meant it is time for you two and Cass to leave, to return to your, 'bunker' is it?"

Sam answered, he was slightly less hammered than Dean; he was always less hammered than Dean. "We have a car; we don't need any help getting back to the bunker. Why all of a sudden does she want us to leave? Is it Crowley? We can handle Crowley. We've made a career out of handling Crowley. Why does she keep trying to get rid of us? We could be useful to you; we could help."

Jace and Vanessa looked at Sam in surprise. That was the longest speech he'd made all evening. It made Jace a little angry. "Really? You're going to help us? Word on the street is you two spend more time off the rails than on these days so thanks but no thanks." She turned back to Vanessa dismissively.

Vanessa felt a little bad that she was about to ignore all his questions and glared at Jace for, as usual, making the situation harder than it needed to be. She took a breath. "Here's what we want you to know. If you haven't put together all the pieces at this point let me make a couple of things clear. Part of Lyria is ancient but she is also a twenty year old girl who has only been in this world for a couple of months. She's important, not just in general," waving her arms expansively (she was a little toasted as well although wearing it better than either Sam or Dean). "She is important to us," pointing to Jace and herself. "I get that you manage all the horrors of being hunters . . ." Jace interrupted, hissing, "Van, you're alliterating again." Jace was not the least bit drunk. Jace always appeared to be drinking more than she actually was.

Vanessa shook her head and began again. "You're guys, you do a tough job. I get it. You're rough and jocular and if a stray emotion wanders into the room you stomp it like a scorpion. I get that and it's a perfectly valid adaptive strategy." Jace rolled her eyes.

"Lyria's not just our leader; she's our sister and she's found and now lost an epic love in less time than it takes for most people to get their dry cleaning done. Cass and Lyria are off now saying their goodbyes and when they get back it's going to be brutal. I would just ask you to dial back the sarcasm even if it gets uncomfortable, so it's no harder for the two of them than it has to be. Ten minutes of kindness or, if you can't manage that, silence, probably won't kill you is all I'm saying."

Sam and Dean looked at each other then back at Vanessa with twin looks of puzzlement. Jace rolled her eyes. "She's telling you not to be dicks when Romeo and Juliet stroll back here looking all tragic. It's bad enough they can't be together; the only help you can be is not making it worse. Got that?"

Sam homed in on one point. "Why can't they be together; why all the tragedy?" Vanessa and Jace looked at other then did another quick Rochambeau. This time Jace was the loser and she looked up at the ceiling for a minute as though pondering either what to say or how to say it. Then, "Before Cass and Lyria decided to become mates he had already pledged himself to her cause and she had already given him his assignment." She paused. "His assignment is to guard you. Since you and she can't be in the same place, you and he have to leave. You've known Cass for a long time so you know he's all about duty. Lyria's exactly the same. She won't change the assignment now just because it hurts them."

Vanessa looked around worriedly. "I'm getting concerned about how much energy it's costing her to keep this protective bubble going for this long. We need to get them moving and get home to Benny. I just don't have the heart to hurry her."

Dean had had enough. Also, Jace's remark about them being off the rails had hit a little too close to home. "Listen, lady. All night we've been getting this bullshit. Is it some kind of religion for you to be cryptic? Shut up, Sam. There is no reason that we all can't occupy the same space and I, for one, am tired of feeling like I'm to blame for something I don't even get." He nodded for emphasis and tried to set down his glass but missed the table and it crashed to the floor. Fortunately, there was another glass next to the whiskey bottle so Dean kicked the glass shards away and started pouring.

As he was filling the glass, slopping quite a bit on the table, Cass and Lyria suddenly appeared again, walking toward the table. They looked as before except Lyria was a little red-eyed and Cass looked more grim than usual, which actually was pretty damn grim.

It was a little wobbly, but Lyria gave Dean a good effort at a smile then turned to Cass, shaking his hand in hers. "Babe, you're up."

Cass looked confused. Dean preferred this look to the tragic one he had walked up with. Confused Cass he was used to. Cass said, "I'm not sure what you mean by 'up.' You don't mean . . ." and he pointed down in the general direction of his dick. Vanessa put a palm over her eyes and rubbed them. Jace laughed, Sam looked over Cass's left shoulder and Dean gave him a look that said, "Really?"

But Lyria just laughed a little and gave him a swift kiss. "No, remember we practiced this, what to say when someone asks why they (pointing to Sam and Dean) and I shouldn't spend any time in the same place." She looked at him expectantly but he just kept frowning in confusion so she leaned over and whispered something in his ear.

Enlightenment lit up Cass's face. He looked at Sam and Dean, cleared his throat loudly and in an epically awful Bill Murray impression intoned, "Crossing the streams is bad."

But Lyria clapped her hands in delight, laughed and threw her arms around Cass's neck and hugged him. He closed his eyes and hugged her back. After a moment, she reached up, took his face in her hands, kissed him and let go. She turned around to Sam and Dean and said, "There, you have it."

"Have what!?" said Dean, "The world's worst Bill Murray impression?" Cass looked hurt. Dean ignored the stab of shame he felt and pressed on. "What does that even mean?"

Seeing the hurt on Cass's face, Lyria gave Dean a scolding look and said bitingly, "I'm sorry but since you have no significant understanding of physics and are most comfortable communicating in pop culture metaphor I thought that might be easier. Was I wrong, should I write the equations down for you?" As she bit this out she grabbed Cass's hand and gave it a squeeze.

Dean felt like they'd wound around to the beginning of the evening when the two of them had been spitting at each other like cats. There was something about her that just annoyed the shit out of him. But before he could aim a drunken spew at her, Sam intervened.

"Sorry, Lyria. It's just that it's been a long night. From the beginning it's been obvious that you think our being together is bad. Okay, we can accept that; we'd just like to understand why. Jace said something about us recently getting a reputation for being unstable. Is that the problem? Are you afraid of us, of what we might do?"

Lyria glared at Jace but Jace just gave her a stony look in return, refusing to back down. So Lyria turned back to Sam and said, "No, that's not it at all. Simply put, we all have an unique energy signature and so any combination of beings has its own unique signature as well. Mine is being tracked by hordes of demons and angels pretty much continuously. I made an agreement that I would keep you out of my engagement with Heaven and Hell. If we're tracked as being together it would be presumed that I had broken the compact and that is not in any of our interests. 'Crossing the streams is bad' is actually a fairly literal description here." She smiled a little ruefully. "I've been introducing Cass to the Bill Murray canon and Ghostbusters is our favorite." She looked affectionately over at Cass, "Although blue eyes here has an almost unnatural affection for the groundhog in Caddyshack." She squeezed his hand again, dropped it and stepped slightly away.

Lyria turned back to Sam and Dean and continued, "As important, we have different jobs and you need to get on with yours. Between Rowena," she looked pointedly at Sam, "what you let out while trying to kill Uncle Ian," a pointed look at Dean, "and Metatron," a scowl at Cass, "you have a lot on your plate. Again, simply put, you have your work and I have mine. They are not compatible and we all need to attend to our responsibilities." All the guys hung their heads a bit at that.

Her voice gentled. "It's just about time for you to go but I wanted to make sure I made the appropriate introductions even if a trifle late, and I do apologize for that."

Dean interrupted, "If you're kicking us out, what's the damn point?"

Sam had had enough. "Wow, Dean. It took you no time at all to forget that she got Dad out of Hell, did it? Just shut it, will you?"

Lyria twinkled at Sam, "It's okay, Sam. I imagine it's quite a bit past Dean's" and here she widened her eyes comically, "'nap time.' We'll just get this out of the way quickly. Jace and Van are very familiar with your background and your work so it's just a matter of formally introducing them to you."

She indicated Vanessa with a hand and a smile. Vanessa dropped a mocking curtsey. "Vanessa Gaines is a brilliant psychiatrist and expert in psychological trauma, especially of the paranormal sort. She was the youngest resident at Brigham Women's Hospital when she was hijacked by Zafen, one of the oldest and most twisted demons in Hell and as you've both been there you know that's saying something. Over time she learned strategies for controlling him for short periods of time, manipulated him into thinking he should take me on and maneuvered herself into position so I could end him and free her. Since then she's worked in our 'repatriation program' with people who we cure of possession, helping them to return to their lives or move on to others."

Dean had a question. Sam could see it and dreaded it because he was afraid he knew what it was. And he was right. Dean looked at Vanessa and asked, "So your demon was a dude? Sam had a girl demon in him for a minute but why would a demon dude possess a woman long term? That makes no sense, unless . . . ."

Van just looked at him in amusement. "Zaf was a cross-dresser," she said matter-of-factly. "It was actually the only part of his personality I didn't find objectionable." She looked over at Sam a little mockingly. "And yes, that was me, or rather me possessed by Zaf you saw at Crowley's alpha holding compound when he was trying to get into Purgatory. As I understand it now, I wasn't the only one who wasn't quite myself back then." The final comment effectively forestalled either Sam or Dean's interest in pursuing that line of discussion further.

Lyria cleared her throat to regain everyone's attention then indicated Jace. Jace gave a regal nod. "And of course this is Jace. It's just Jace, like Beyoncé or Madonna or God. She's a hunter, international division and pretty famous in those circles." Dean gave her a measuring look that she returned with an insolent flip up of her chin. "She once took out five vampires with nothing but a machete and a stripper pole." Dean was both wildly impressed and completely turned on.

"Jace also has the best day job of any hunter ever as she works for 'The Company.'"

Cass interjected knowingly, "When she says 'The Company' she really means your Central Intelligence Agency."

"Thanks for the translation, Cass, really." Dean said. He looked at Jace, "So you pretext as CIA?"

Lyria shook her head. "No, she actually works for the CIA; it has a division of hunters who work internationally. Monster populations take advantage of countries that are already de-stabilized, making the overall situation worse. Jace's CIA handler is a Men of Letters legacy – as is Jace, whose grandfather was an expert in Haitian and Louisiana supernatural lore. There are a few legacies left you know; although they're seriously on the down low. A group of them are collectively known as The Aquarian Circle." Lyria tipped her head at Jace, who just looked at her for a beat, huffed and then removed the cuff bracelet on her right wrist and lifted it until Sam and Dean could see the Aquarian Star set within a circle tattooed over her pulse. She then slapped the bracelet back on, raised an eyebrow at Dean, and turned her attention back to Lyria.

Lyria looked at Sam and Dean. "There's plenty more backstory for each of them but it's all kind of second date stuff. This should do for now." She flipped her head back and forth as though thinking about whether she'd missed anything.

Sam took advantage of the silence and asked, "And the point of this is . . .?"

Lyria responded pithily, "I thought you might want to all friend each other on Facebook." She rolled her eyes and continued, "You're all skilled and knowledgeable and lion-hearted; you may find it useful to ally at some point. Sam, Dean, if Jace or Van should ask for your help I would be very grateful if you would give it." She ignored Jace and Van's irritated shuffling next to her. "They know I expect them to help you if you should need it." She looked a little mockingly at her sisters. "There, have I satisfactorily addressed your gender parity concerns?" Van frowned at her. Jace smacked her on the back of the head with her open palm.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 12**

Lyria just looked around at the other five for a moment with a slight smile on her face. Then she waved her right hand and everything around them disappeared except the piano and bench on the dance floor. She nodded at Cass and he moved to stand directly behind Sam and Dean. At the same time, Jace and Vanessa moved to flank Lyria. They now looked a little like an overgrown group of kids at a middle-school mixer, boys on one side, girls on the other.

Lyria suddenly snapped her fingers. "Presents! I promised you presents!" Everyone else looked astonished at this abrupt change in mood but Lyria was excited. She opened one palm and a glowing stone lit up her hand. She tossed it to Sam since he was the more sober of the two brothers. "Here. With this stone, Cass can get you to see your parents. You will only have five minutes or so but enough for hugs all around I would think." She added gently, "I have made sure they know how nobly you two have fought all these years, the demons without, the demons within – and the great service you performed for this world. I told them to be proud of their sons." Sam blinked rapidly and nodded before looking away.

Dean's reflexes were pretty impaired but he managed to catch the keys Lyria tossed slowly his way. Lyria said, "These are the keys to Maggie, my powder blue 1968 Mustang convertible." Dean nodded. She continued, "I built her myself." Dean gave her a disbelieving look. He opened his mouth to say something snarky but before he could she said, "She's not for you, dickhead. She's for Cass."

Lyria looked at Cass and to Dean she just seemed to glow with love, or maybe she just glowed, who knew. He couldn't figure any of this out. "I know you're so freaking cool you don't care what kind of car you drive but I can't have my man driving around in a pimp car, I just can't. It literally hurts my heart just thinking about it." She rubbed the space between her breasts for emphasis. "So Maggie's yours now. I even fixed it so she wouldn't need gas."

Dean waved the keys. "If she's for Cass, why did you give me the keys?"

Lyria looked at Dean as though he was an idiot. "She's a stick shift."

Dean winced. "Shit. This is going to hurt."

Lyria grinned at him. "Better you than me." She smiled over at Cass, who hadn't said a word all this time, just kept looking at her with his head slightly to the side as though memorizing each expression and emotion as it passed over her face. "Dean will teach you how to drive Maggie; you don't take her out 'til Dean says you're good, okay?" Cass nodded and smiled his thanks.

Lyria sighed then tossed something else, this time to Cass. He examined it then looked around at everyone for guidance. Lyria smiled. "It's a mixed tape, cher." She gestured toward Dean. "Dean can explain." She added hastily, "But don't play it around them; they'll just make fun of you." She gave Sam and Dean a frown. Sam said, "Hey" but Dean just muttered, "You know she's right."

Cass took something out of the pocket of his trench coat, looked at it a second and then tossed it up in the air in Lyria's direction. It rose in an arc, a long chain with wings attached to it that suddenly took flight. Sparkling in the light of the piano candelabra it wended its way over to Lyria. Lyria put her hands together, palms up and it landed there, fluttered for a second then was still. Lyria held it up to the light, looked at Cass with tears in her eyes. "You know my heart, cher." She put the chain of the necklace over her head and the others could now see the jeweled dragonfly at the end of the chain.

Cass said, "To remember, always, that you have the beauty of a dragonfly, facets upon facets of loveliness. And to remember, always, that I love you, always."

Lyria stood for a moment, an ocean of tears ready to fall from her eyes. Jace and Vanessa moved closer and each put a hand on her shoulder for comfort. She blinked the tears away and smiled back at Cass.

"Remember what I taught you, cher." She pointed to Dean.

"Ah, yes. Go to Dean when the issue is sex, music or cars." He nodded. She pointed at Sam. Cass picked up the cue. "Talk to Sam when it's about relationships, any art form other than music and how to behave in public when other people are around." Lyria smiled at him approvingly but she wasn't finished yet. "And?" She asked.

For a moment Cass looked puzzled, then his expression cleared and he said, "And never confuse the two. For example, never talk to Dean about relationships or Sam about music." Lyria smiled and nodded. Sam and Dean said, "Hey!" simultaneously and glared at Lyria.

Lyria just looked at Sam for a moment. "I have one word for you." She pointed a finger at him accusingly. "Enya."

Sam shuffled his feet. Dean asked, "What's she talking about, Sam." Sam said, "Nothing, just leave it." Lyria smirked.

She sobered almost instantly and looked back again at Cass. She tossed him one of the glowing balls. He caught it easily since he wasn't the least bit drunk and looked at her questioningly. She said gently, "Take Claire to see her parents. I think it will heal both of you."

Cass looked at the ball for a second then closed his hand over it. He looked at Lyria and nodded without saying anything; there was nothing to be said. Vanessa, looking between the two thought to herself that Cass would always remember that Lyria's last act toward him was to heal.

For a moment, everyone just watched Lyria as she bounced lightly back and forth on her bare feet. Finally, she smiled at Cass. "I want you to know, cher, that I've decided I'm okay with your father."

Cass cleared his throat. "By 'my father' do you mean God?"

Lyria nodded. "Yes, that father. I mean he's cranky as shit and I'm already completely over that waking me up every morning with the same damn question thing. Plus, I think it's pretty pervy that he watched us have sex."

Cass said, "I'm not having that argument with you again."

Dean put up a finger, "Excuse me. Did you just say that God has been watching you and Cass have sex?"

"Well, not just us, but yeah. I think he watches everyone. Why else would he have created sex at all?" She spread her arms in emphasis. "There are many more efficient ways to procreate. Yep. God's nothing but a big ol' pervert." She twinkled at Cass as he winced. "But as I was saying, despite all of that he's okay with me." She smiled lovingly at him.

"Cass, we're creatures of duty, you and me. He didn't need to (air quotes) 'incentivize' us to get the job done. But he gave us a week together and he didn't have to do that. So I take it as a kindness, and I will think kindly of him for that alone." She grinned. "And you. If I haven't said so before, thanks for all the awesome sex." Cass saw through her sass to her pain but just smiled back and said, "You have said so before and, again, you're very welcome. I'll let my father know you don't think he's so bad after all."

Jace squeezed Lyria's shoulder once. With an unreadable look in her eyes she turned to Sam and Dean and said, "It has caused much complication but I'm glad we could spend a few hours getting drunk together. Bonne chance in all you do." She nodded once then turned to Cass. She spoke at length to him in Enochian, to which he responded in kind, then said in English, with a cheering smile and the doffing of an imaginary cap, "As you wish."

Lyria smiled despite her swimming eyes, laughed and said, "Last lesson. Tell me the correct response when a girl standing before you says, 'I love you.'"

Without a beat, Cass replied instantly, "'I know.'" After a short pause, as Cass watched a single tear wend its way down Lyria's cheek he said to her, "I love you, mon Coeur."

Lyria laughed again, shakily, and another tear fell as she raised her hand in a slight wave. "Oh, cher, I know." She waved once more as Cass put one hand on Sam's shoulder and one on Dean's. Then, Sam, Cass and Dean were gone.

Lyria fell to the floor in a billow of black velvet and put her face in her hands. Jace and Vanessa shared a worried look. Vanessa knew this was supposedly in her bailiwick so knelt down to take Lyria in her arms. Lyria looked up with a lost expression at the two women who had become her sisters in such a very short time.

For the first time Lyria felt fragile to Vanessa, this young woman, girl really, who was always a force of energy and will, with the innate confidence of someone who saw no other option but victory. For this moment she was just a heart-broken young girl and Vanessa rocked her for comfort and murmured nonsense in her ear until she could feel her pulling herself together.

Lyria leaned against Vanessa's shoulder for another moment while Jace paced around the two wishing Lyria had left the tables so she'd have something to smash. Without opening her eyes, Lyria said, "Jace, you're making me a little nauseated with all the pacing." She opened her eyes and although it obviously was an effort she smiled a little at Vanessa and patted her arm.

"Thank you sisters. It is such a blessing to have your comfort, Van, you to hold me and Jace to be angry for me. I am a lucky girl." She paused. "A very lucky girl. Even if I am feeling totally Bonnie Raitt, right now."

Jace looked questioningly at Vanessa and said, "Translation?" After a moment, Vanessa offered, "I think she's saying she's having a 'total eclipse of the heart.'" She smoothed Lyria's hair away from her face and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Lyria jumped to her feet, shook out her skirts and scrubbed her face with her hands. "Let's get this Crowley meet over with. I want Poppy and some pie, in that order."

Vanessa and Jace looked at each other, then at Lyria. Jace said, "If anyone deserves a pie bender, it's you. I hope Benny made more than one." She gave Lyria a short, one-armed hug and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "You did well, tonight, very well. We're proud of you."

Vanessa nodded. "What she said." She added, to re-set the mood. "I, for one, was most proud that you have learned so quickly how to use your breasts as a force for good. I'm not sure Crowley heard one word in ten while you were talking to him."

Lyria knew her cue and took it, tucking her heartache away until she had her Poppy. She smiled a little wickedly and said, "I didn't want to mention it with all the guys here but one of you needs to remind me to get in touch with Uncle Ian because I keep forgetting. The last time I saw him he agreed to make sure I had a hot reaper, you know, just in case I didn't get around to having sex before I had to pop off. Luckily, I don't need one anymore."

Jace looked at her warily. "I hope you don't mean that you're thinking about doing it with Crowley. It's one thing to think the dude's hot, which he is, but that's one soulless dick and it wouldn't be worth all the diseases I'm sure he's carting around."

Lyria laughed and it was almost natural this time. "No, I was just thinking it was fun flashing my boobs at Crowley because Cass did not like it at all and I liked that. But I'm thinking that I'm a one man woman. I have to say if I'm ever feeling a little low I know the memory I'm summoning. It's the looks of revulsion on Cass, Sam and Dean's faces when we were talking about Crowley being hot."

She smiled; it was a little wobbly but Vanessa and Jace were glad to see it. She said, "So, what's the wager on how long it'll be before Crowley makes a move?"

Vanessa considered for a minute, "I'd say ten minutes before he starts with his rather creepy version of foreplay. Jace?"

Jace said, "I've got over. I think he's got his eye on the ball. His dick will always take second place to his survival."

Lyria sighed comically. "I guess I've got under . . . again. I'm gonna have to amp it up. My breasts sure are getting a workout tonight and not in the fun way."

Jace and Vanessa laughed and they spent the rest of the hour talking strategy in preparation for Lyria's second act with Crowley.

* * *

While Jace and Vanessa were tending to Lyria, Sam and Dean were wondering what to do about Cass. They had reappeared in the common room of the bunker almost immediately after disappearing from the bar. As soon as they landed, Cass dropped his hands from their shoulders. He stood there not saying a word, the cassette tape in one hand and the glowing stone in the other.

Sam and Dean looked at each other. Between all the whiskey and their habitual dislike of emotional scenes they were a little slow on the uptake. It didn't matter. Cass turned around and, having never said a word, walked out of the room. Dean and Sam decided that the best plan was sleep now, hangover and angel comforting later and each went to his bedroom.

As Sam was emptying his pockets, he saw the battery on his cell phone was low and went to plug it into the charger. As he did so he noticed the recording app was still on. As he turned it off he made a mental note to work on translating the Enochian when he had time.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 13**

 **The Men of Letters' Bunker, a week later**

Sam sat at one of the long tables in the common room amidst an incredible mess. Dozens of books and loose pieces of paper littered the table, the adjacent tables and the floor. A handful of coffee cups and whiskey glasses dotted the tables as well and here and there were half-eaten plates of food, in various states of congealing. The room smelled like guy and frustration. It wasn't a good mix.

Sam sat in the middle of the mess and roughly rubbed his head between his hands in an attempt to focus. In between his various hunter-related duties he had been working on the translation of the Enochian from their night at the bar, focusing on the last conversation between Cass and Lyria. In the past twenty-four hours he had been feeling a growing sense of disbelief and he was now clinging frantically to a hope that he had gotten it all wrong – a completely unnatural desire for him. He had gone as far as he could on his own and the possibility he was looking at was so unbelievable he hadn't even shared it with Dean. But now he was going to need both Dean and Cass, because whatever the answer was, they needed to know it now.

Sam looked down at the computer screen and then over at two books open on either side of it. On the computer were side by side renderings of the conversation, one side in Enochian, the other in English but with a few crucial words missing. He heard footsteps in the hallway and, thinking it might be Cass, hurriedly wrote down three words on three separate pieces of paper and closed the laptop.

Dean walked into the room and tossed a duffle bag into one of the table's chairs. He was exhausted, irritable and tired of always being one step behind the things he was hunting these days. Maybe a shower and a good's night's rest would put him in a better mood but he wasn't counting on it. Also, he didn't know it yet, but he wasn't going to be getting a good's night's rest any time soon.

Once he knew it was Dean and not Cass, Sam barely looked up, he was fixated on the pieces of paper in his hand. "Earth to Sam," Dean said. No response. "Nerd boy! Pay attention. I got three half-naked chicks in the car; they're real grateful and real limber."

Sam didn't look up, just ran his fingers through his hair, rested his chin in his hand and said absently, "Sounds good. You should do that."

Dean walked over to the table and snapped his fingers several times. "Sam!"

"Huh? Huh? What?"

"What's up? You look freaked. I told you no good comes from reading books that don't even have pictures." Dean threw himself into one of the other chairs, picked up a half empty glass of whiskey, sniffed it then threw it back. He rolled the empty glass between his hands.

Sam ignored Dean's questions and just asked, "Have you seen Cass today? I need his help with something."

"No, haven't seen Mr. Mopey McMoperson today, which is fine with me. I'm tired of his mood and his new habit of glaring at me like I stole his favorite toy. What do you need him for, anyway? Maybe I can help."

"Thanks but no. I'm at a standstill on a translation and he's the only one who can help."

Dean threw back his head and yelled, "Cass, where the hell are you? Sam has some nerd stuff he needs to ask you about. Come in, Cass." He shrugged. "Apparently out of shouting range; have you tried his cell phone?"

Before Sam could answer, they heard footsteps and Cass walked into the room, his trench coat swinging out behind him and his face sporting the determinedly stoic expression that made Dean want to punch him, over and over again.

Cass said, "I'm here, Sam. How can I help you?"

Dean waved. "Hello to you too, tight ass."

Cass shoved his hands in his coat pockets. "You called for me; I came. You didn't say I was required to do it with a perky attitude." With a forced and sarcastic bonhomie he asked, "Dean, how the hell are you? I've missed you in the, oh, twelve hours since I saw you last."

"Yikes," Dean replied. "Hurry, Sam and get your answers so we can send him back to his pouty cave." He looked sideways at Cass.

"Thanks, Cass. I really appreciate your help. I've, uh, been working on translating some Enochian from a couple of texts. I have a lot of it, but there are a few words I can't translate."

Cass looked at the table. "Which text?" Sam replied, "I don't want you to translate it; I'm trying to learn the language. I just need help with a few words."

Cass nodded, he really didn't care. "What are the words?" Sam held up a piece of paper with one word on it. Cass looked at it for a second then said, "Father." Sam nodded and asked, "By father are we talking God or a human father?" Cass replied, "No, human."

Sam nodded, dropped that piece of paper and held up the second one. The word on the page was _Esiasch_. Cass again looked at the page briefly. "Brother."

The paper shook slightly and Sam dropped it on the table. Dean had only been half interested before but he knew Sam well enough to know now something was wrong. He just looked back and forth between the two and waited.

Cass looked at Sam. "Is that it? I'm a little tired and I'd like to go to my room if you don't need me anymore."

Dean called him on it. "Cass you're an angel; you don't get tired."

"I was employing a euphemism, Dean."

Sam interrupted. "Just one more, Cass." He picked up the third piece of paper, inhaled and exhaled once, then held it up so Cass could see. "Cass?"

Cass again looked at the page briefly. "Sister."

Sam looked down at the pages in front of him then opened his laptop and typed for a few seconds. Cass started toward the doorway. He stopped but didn't turn around when Sam started reading what was written there.

 **Lyria** : _I repose all faith in you to protect those dearest to me. As the daughter of the great warrior John, I am bound by love and blood to protect my brothers. To fulfill my promise to him I must stay away from them henceforward. Beloved, I know they are your brothers of the heart as they are mine of blood but you must never tell them they and I share a father, nor that I am their sister. If either Heaven or Hell learns of it my brothers would be taken to strike at or control me._

 **Cass** : _I will not let that happen. I honor your faith in me even as I mourn our separation._

 **Lyria** : _My heart is as yours. But there is no one in this or any universe I would trust more with their safety. My love goes with you and them. No matter what, you must not leave them. I know Dean can be trying. Invest in some headphones._

 **Cass** (in English): _As you wish._

There was complete silence for a moment. Then Cass said, without inflection and without turning around, "I think I have mentioned before that Enochian can be quite flowery."

"I was guessing at that last word based on having known Dean my whole life," Sam replied stalling a little, "I figured out it was French, not Enochian, which I'm guessing doesn't have a word for 'headphones.'"

CRASH. Sam and Cass whirled to see that Dean had thrown a chair against the wall. Having got their attention, Dean pointed to a chair next to Sam, looked at Cass grimly and then pointed at the chair again. "Sit. Talk. Explain."

Cass sat. He did not talk. Dean snapped, "Cass, don't make me pound you into hamburger!"

Sam glared at Dean. "Dean! Just shut up, will you? Give him a minute."

Cass said, "Thanks, Sam. But it's okay." He put his face in his hands for a minute then let them fall back down and said, "She gave me but one task . . . and I managed to screw it up anyway." He was devastated.

Sam spoke gently. He wanted answers but he was sensitive to Cass's feelings of guilt. God knew he felt them often enough. "Are you talking about keeping information from us? Because you aren't to blame for that; I am. I recorded the whole evening on my phone. I really am trying to learn Enochian; I was just translating as practice. It's only been in the last day that I began to suspect that there was something important about the conversation."

Dean interrupted, Sam was taking too long to get to the salient point. "Is Lyria our half-sister? Was John Winchester her father? Yes or No, Cass."

Sam rolled his eyes and stabbed Dean with his 'you're making everything worse' look. "Cass, I'm sorry for what you're feeling but you've known us for a long time. You can just sit there if you think you have to but we will find out what we need to know; we'll go out there and look until we find her and we'll ask her. Is that what you want?"

After a moment Cass answered, "She likes to say that she was born from the memory of a great love and the despair over a lost love." He smiled tenderly. "She can be very romantic. Over twenty years ago, the Maiden went to your father when he was dreaming of your mother. He believed he was making love to her. He is Lyria's father just like he's yours."

No one spoke for a very long time. Dean got up and got the whiskey bottle sitting on a side table and brought it and a couple of clean glasses over to where they were sitting. He poured generous amounts into each of the three glasses, placed one in front of Sam, one in front of Cass then sat back down and picked up his.

Dean spoke first. "Sam, just how many goddamn kids did Dad have? I mean we're halfway to a frickin' baseball team. Or we would be if Adam wasn't stuck in Hell." Then something struck him and he sputtered into his drink. "Sam! Our half-sister is Lucifer's granddaughter. How fucking messed up is that?"

Cass said, "This is very different from the situation with Adam, and not just because Lyria has some unfortunate and celestial forebears. Your father knew about Adam and Adam knew John Winchester was his father but Adam didn't know you and the two of you didn't know him. John Winchester does not know that Lyria is his daughter, although he has met her twice, once when she was eleven and just recently when she checked in to make sure he had been admitted to Heaven and to reassure him and your mother that you were okay. She has known from birth that she was John Winchester's daughter and that you were her brothers; that was the whole point."

Dean asked, "What point? I'm not seeing any damn point."

Cass smiled. "Of course you're not. Lyria was born to champion humanity, to weigh in on your side against both the demon world and Heaven. It makes a certain amount of sense that she would be born to a family who had been fighting for them all along, doesn't it?" Sam and Dean were a little embarrassed and shuffled their feet. Cass continued. "She grew up in what she refers to as her 'box' but really it was just a hidden interdimensional bubble where she was supposed to stay until she was twenty, at which time she would enter the world and begin her mission. However, she wouldn't be very effective if she didn't understand this world so she was born with a supernatural connection to your father. She saw what he saw, heard what he heard and felt what he did. That is, until he died. At that point the connection transferred to the two of you."

Sam felt sick. "Are you saying she saw everything? The blood, the monsters, violence and death, the drunken rages, when she was just a little girl?" Cass just nodded.

Dean felt sick too, but for a different reason. "Sam, you know what this means, don't you?" Sam was still a little too bewildered by the whole thing to think of a good response so just looked at him questioningly. "It means Cass has been doing our little sister." Dean crossed his arms across his chest and looked at Cass accusingly. After a moment, Sam did the same. Cass backed his chair up a little at the menacing glares he knew were only half in jest.

After a couple of slightly tense minutes Sam said, "When she was talking to you, she mentioned a promise she made to Dad. Could you tell us about that?" Before Cass could say 'no' Sam added gently, "It's out now, Cass. Anything that can help us understand this better is a good thing." He paused. "Cass, this isn't the first time we've had to re-evaluate everything we thought we knew about our family. Help us understand."

Dean was going to add his bit because he thought Cass was going to refuse, but before he could think of anything, Cass began speaking. As he went along, he seemed to forget his audience and his voice became unusually animated as he talked about the life of the girl he loved.

"From the time she was around five, Lyria has kept what she calls a 'hunter's journal' modeled after your father's. She says the irony of it is that she came from a family of monster hunters and she is a monster herself so as she saw it her job was to hunt herself. She needed to understand the world and her place in it so that, hopefully, she would understand what to do when she got here. She gathered information and arranged and rearranged it in her journal day after day. She was connected to your father but she could tap into many different information and energy sources over time as her powers began to develop.

In the spring of 2006, just a few months before your father died, she had put together enough supernatural omens and demon chatter to understand something was coming and she was pretty sure he was going to die. She was eleven and she was frantic. She was already too wise to think she could turn John Winchester from his chosen path, but she wanted to help him in any way she could, so she summoned Arene.

Now, Arene had borne Lyria and she took her responsibility to keep her safe very seriously but she was not a 'mother' as you understand the word. Lyria was expected to raise herself. When she was very small she would call for her but she soon learned that Arene was to be left alone unless it was a matter of her safety. By that spring, Lyria had long given up on expecting Arene to care about her fears or feelings."

Cass paused for a second and Sam rubbed his eyes, trying to exorcise the image of a child calling for a mother who couldn't be bothered to answer. Dean was squinting off into the distance and remembering Lyria's plaintive comment, "She did the best she could." He wanted to break something, no, several somethings.

Cass picked up the thread of the story again, saying, "So when Lyria called out to her she came, concerned there was an imminent threat. Instead, there was Lyria, in a little dress that was a miniature of Arene's," Cass smiled at the memory, "bouncing back and forth on her heels and holding her hands at her waist so that she could very respectfully request that she be allowed to leave for a short visit with her father. Arene was adamant that Lyria was never to leave her 'box' and it didn't matter to her that Lyria was sure John Winchester was going to die soon and that this would be her only opportunity to meet him. She said no, that was it and she left." He paused again.

Sam and Dean had only experienced Lyria for a total of a few hours over two evenings but they knew enough to understand that even an eleven year old Lyria wouldn't have taken the 'no' and given up. Suddenly, Sam had an idea.

"Cass, you have all of Arene's memories of Lyria, right?" Cass nodded. "Could you show them to us? Obviously she ignored Arene's order to stay put and met Dad. Could you show that to us, her meeting Dad?"

Dean looked up from his examination of the whiskey glass in his hand and looked a little sadly at Cass. "Would that be possible?"

Cass stretched his hand across the table and grasped Dean's forearm, then stretched the other over to Sam's until they were all linked. Across their minds ran a series of images. He showed them the pale, brown-haired little girl in the velvet dress and the scuffed combat boots meet, comfort and heal their father. They saw her laugh as their Dad pushed her in the swings. They saw her land back in her box with a beatific smile on her face and they saw her beaten with an invisible whip until her little back was nothing but ribbons of blood and flayed skin. They simultaneously broke the connection with Cass. Sam laid his head on the table. Dean pushed back his chair, stood up and staggered away, rubbing his mouth as though to keep something in, or down.

Sam sat back up, took a drink of his whiskey like it was medicine and turned to Cass. "Cass, please tell me that was the only time that happened. Please, please let that be the only time." Cass just looked sadly at him. Dean picked up the nearest heavy item, a large Enochian dictionary, and heaved it across the room.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 14**

The three men separated for the night, each to deal with the revelations and their repercussions in the way that suited his nature. Sam ran for five miles then showered and laid in his bed for the next few hours thinking about his father and his sister in a park in Illinois until he fell asleep and dreamed of them.

Dean took Baby out on the road and just drove, hour after hour in the dark. He couldn't rid himself of the sight of Lyria's bloody back and the image kept alternating in his feverish mind with ones of her playing a Bon Jovi song like a pro, laughing as she threw her arms around Cass's neck and knocking him into a wall with one punch. Logically, he knew Lyria didn't need him to protect her but he still felt as though somehow he should have known and done something. He sped down the blacktop in a vain attempt to outrun the painful images but eventually turned around and headed back to the bunker, arriving just before dawn.

Cass just sat, hour after hour in the dark feeling guilty, and not just because Sam and Dean now knew something Lyria had wanted to keep from them. He also felt guilty because he was glad of it. The careful plan Lyria had concocted to keep her and the Winchester brothers apart was blown to smithereens, which was bad. But the guys would be making up their own plan on the fly, as they most always did, and that meant Cass might see Lyria again. After all, he had promised he wouldn't leave them. Every once in a while, sitting in the dark, Cass would smile. Then he would remember that he felt guilty and force himself to stop. Eventually, he began to develop a plan of his own.

Around seven, Cass went to the kitchen, put on coffee and rooted around in the refrigerator to see what he could make for breakfast. He wasn't particularly handy in the kitchen but his months as a human had taught him the rudimentary kitchen skills needed for the average breakfast menu. He scrambled some eggs, toasted bread and then took the eggs, toast and coffee to the common room when he knew Sam and Dean were there.

For a brief, ridiculous second, the three avoided each other's eyes, as though they'd caught each other watching porn. Cass sat down on one side of the table and Sam and Dean sat on the other. They were grateful for the food and the few minutes it took to load up their plates, pour the coffee and settle in at the table.

Dean took a drink of his coffee then broke the silence after a quick glance at Sam. "Okay, Cass. You need to give the rest of it up so we know what we are dealing with and can figure out what to do. After breakfast, we want you to give us the rest of them, the rest of the memories."

Cass shook his head. "It would take years to give you all the memories. I can give you what I think you would call a 'montage' of her life with a little commentary from me that will help you make sense of it and one memory that will catch you up." Cass saw Dean open his mouth to argue and said quietly. "That's my final and only offer and it's not made for you, but for her. Take it or leave it."

Sam shook his head at Dean and said, "That's fine, Cass. We appreciate it, really we do. Anytime you're ready." He pushed his plate away and Dean did as well. Cass walked around the table, stood behind Sam and Dean and put a hand on Sam's left and Dean's right shoulder. They closed their eyes as the images started flashing across their minds.

They saw Lyria as a small baby rolling around and around as she floated in mid-air, then as a toddler sleeping on a small table. They saw her at around seven with a shorn head, baggy jeans and a flannel shirt, dancing and singing rock 'n roll songs as her journal pages floated around her. They saw her a few years older, raging in grief, ripping pages of pictures and text from the wall and tearing them up before sinking to the ground to weep inconsolably. For a long time after that there was image after image of her getting slightly older and the background changing constantly. She might be playing a guitar or piano or a set of drums, her head under the hood of a car or writing in her journal. After a while a computer joined her and she banged away on it as what looked like translucent papers flew from it to join others floating in the air. Eventually the background around her seemed to settle into one consistent image of an old-fashioned but comfortable looking little bedroom and a little later it appeared as though Lyria had settled on a fashion look similar to what she was wearing when they met. Her late teenage look was a huge improvement on the flannel shirts and baggy pants Sam eventually realized were meant to mimic what they wore. She was almost always barefoot.

Every so often there would be another image of Lyria from the back, bleeding. It seemed to Sam and Dean that over time she became unnervingly matter-of-fact about these beatings, looking up from whatever she was doing when she sensed Arene's presence, removing her own shirt and lifting her hair so it wouldn't be in the way. That was hardest for the brothers to bear.

The final image Cass showed them was of Lyria at around nineteen. She had long, brown hair and sat on a little table wearing jeans and a tangerine t-shirt, one leg tucked up under her, playing a guitar and singing, Dean thought, Jim Croce's I Got a Name. She looked happy and relaxed despite being alone in an "interdimensional bubble." She could have been any teen-aged girl hanging out in her bedroom rather than a half angel held hostage by a crazy, violent supernatural being.

Cass broke the contact, walked back around the table and sat down. Dean shook his head like a dog drying off and Sam had a dazed expression on his face before he closed his eyes for a long minute. While Sam and Dean processed all of the images, Cass tried to give them some context. He told them that Lyria had been determined to emulate them and their father by making clothes like theirs, cutting her hair to look like theirs, and, when she was a little older and had more power, changing her environment to match whatever one they were living in at the time, which accounted for all the changing images of what Sam and Dean now realized were hotel rooms, cheap apartments and abandoned houses from the last fifteen years or so.

In a reflective tone Cass said, "In a real sense you raised her, you and your father, even though you didn't know it. She watched how you dressed and learned what you liked and cared about, internalized your values and tastes and the lessons of your upbringing and experiences. You just didn't know you were raising a little sister." He smiled a little.

"Yes, Cass, because if we had we wouldn't have let her get her back torn up over and over again for years! Goddammit!" Dean pounded on the table with both fists for emphasis and added, "What the Hell am I supposed to do about this?"

Sam waved Dean silent. They weren't going to get anywhere with Dean getting all worked up over atrocities from years ago. More calmly, Sam asked, "Did she continue to leave her box or otherwise defy Arene? Do you know what the beatings were for?"

Cass hesitated. He had known this was coming, had prepared for it but he knew that despite everything they had been through his friends were tender-hearted and he was about to hurt them very badly. There was really no other option at that point. So he told them what they wanted to know, as simply and directly as he could.

"When Lyria returned from meeting your father, Arene beat her for three straight days. Nothing was ever again as bad and Lyria never left again until she left for good." Cass paused again. Sam said, "I hear a 'but' here, Cass. Dean and I are capable of imagining some pretty horrific scenarios so please put us out of our misery on this."

Cass sighed then continued. "Like I said, Lyria didn't leave again. She told me the violence of Arene's reaction was 'merely' a reflection of her terror and Lyria didn't want her to feel that fear again." Dean rolled his eyes and, despite the tension in the room, Cass laughed. "I know, I had the same reaction; Lyria seems to have been created with little of the self-interest the rest of us have. After your father died she trained herself to leave telepathically. Those beatings you saw were from instances when she sent her healing ability out through her music. Even that enraged Arene, who thought any possibility that someone or something could discover Lyria's existence was too great to risk. The beatings were less severe but Arene apparently felt honor bound to administer one each time Lyria defied her."

As Cass knew he would, Sam insisted on understanding the whole issue. "Knowing what would happen, what could possibly have been important enough for her to ignore Arene?"

Cass looked at each of them in turn and replied simply, "You."

Sam and Dean looked at each other and back at Cass. "Us?" they asked in unison.

"By Lyria's standards it wasn't very often at all. But if she got a sense that one or both of you was reaching a breaking point, if you were particularly discouraged or in despair, she would send you some of her healing through music while you slept; she sang to you. To her it was frustratingly little, just enough to help you hang on until circumstances changed for you. She said it was an old song written by someone named Simon Garfunkle. She sang it to me once; it was really very beautiful."

Sam and Dean both looked thunderstruck and then, simultaneously, "Bridge over Troubled Water!" Startled, they looked at each other. "Not Simon Garfunkle, Cass, Simon and Garfunkle" corrected Sam.

Dean smiled. "This explains why every once in a while I would wake up with that song running through my head. I'm kind of glad to have an explanation. It used to make me think I was crazy. Then I actually went pretty crazy and stopped worrying about it."

Sam laughed, "You have to admit it's kind of funny. Both of us hearing the music but not telling each other because we thought we were imagining things or going crazy. But all along she was reaching out to help us," and more grimly, "and getting beaten for her trouble."

Cass said gently, "Lyria said that all she was doing was providing the comfort of a sister which was her right and responsibility. Like I said, you raised her in every way that's important, including imparting your extraordinary commitment to family."

Dean had a thought. "What's the deal with calling Jace and Vanessa her 'sisters'?"

Cass just smiled. "You really aren't getting this. She's a Winchester and she thinks like a Winchester. You are the family she was given; they are the family she made. You have done the same." Cass looked thoughtful. "I think she knew for a long time it would be safer if you never found out about her but she was also a girl who grew up with a love for family. So she decided to make one as soon as she could and between Benny, Van and Jace she has."

Sam looked at Dean. "I think Lyria needs to be reminded we're not that easy to get rid of." Dean grinned. "Damn straight."

Cass nodded. "I expected something of the sort. Before we go any further, I think you should see this one last vignette of Lyria's life, from about nine weeks ago. This is Lyria's memory, not Arene's. She shared it with me not long after we met. I think you're going to enjoy this one." Cass grinned. Cass never grinned.

The Lyria Sam and Dean had met three days ago (minus the two white braids she now sported) stood in front of a mirror above a dressing table in a small bedroom. She turned her head back and forth and put her hands on her hips as she assessed the image she saw there. She was wearing what would become a kind of uniform for her. She had on a loose fitting white shirt that fell past her ass in the back, the front tucked into a worn, faded pair of jeans that were comfortable rather than stylish. From the knee down the jeans were covered by a pair of flat-heeled knee-high black leather boots and over her shirt was a black leather vest with multiple pockets and dings on it. Her thick chestnut brown hair fell to slightly below her shoulders and was caught back in a loose braid; a few strands escaped and framed her face.

Lyria's face had refined over the years but her green eyes were as direct as they'd been at eleven. She was a cacophony of features, Dean's eyes and mouth, her father's nose, Sam's chin and hair. She was somewhere between plain and pretty and had often thought her features fit the men of her family better than they did her. Nevertheless, she loved how she looked because each feature reminded her of someone she loved.

As she put the finishing touches of her outfit together she began to speak out loud, "Okay, my Sam bracelet and my Dean watch. Dean's amulet (what was the jerk thinking throwing it away.)" She tossed two long chains over her head and continued, "My journal locket and my family locket."

She turned slightly to the left and looked up at the wall next to her dressing table at a pyramid of images; John Winchester at the top, Dean and Sam below him, and Bobby, Cass and Charlie below them. She looked at the pictures of Cass, Bobby and Charlie and said, "Thank you for being my teachers. I will try to remember and use well what you have taught me." With a wave the three images drifted away from the wall and were sucked into the oval locket. She then looked back up at the image of John. "Père, I miss you every day. I will try to be worthy." His picture was sucked into the locket. Only Dean and Sam's pictures now remained on the wall. She looked at them and sighed, then smiled. "Okay, guys, it's just about time. Based on what happened when I met Dad, I think I will lose my connection to you when I leave here. I will miss having you with me, so much." She rolled her eyes. "Except for all the porn. Dudes, you're in a serious porn rut. Get laid already!" She laughed, then sobered and looked at them tenderly. "I will try to live up to you and make a better world for you." She waved her hand and Dean's and Sam's images floated into the locket. She closed and patted it.

Lyria opened the journal locket and turned to the far wall which was completely covered, wall to wall and from the floor to the ceiling with typed and handwritten pages, pictures, graphs, articles and drawings. She waved both hands and they all arose from the wall, shuffled themselves into order and then were sucked into the locket shaped like a book. She snapped it shut and patted it twice in satisfaction.

She then paced the floor, thinking deeply. She resumed talking to herself. "You can do this. This is what Winchesters do and you are a Winchester. Your father is the great hero John Winchester and your brothers saved the fucking world! Your maternal grandfather may have been the first and still the absolute biggest dickbag in all of this planet's history but as far as you know no one ever called him stupid. And your other grandfather was very cool and noble and gave us the family motto, 'We're Winchesters. As long as we're alive, there's hope.' Awesome.

All you need is a little Dean swagger, a little 'Don't worry about me; I'm completely harmless' Sam guile, le père's implacability and Maman's aristocratic haughtiness and you'll be fine. Crowley's just a jumped up jackhole crossroads demon and that bitch Hannah is just another tight-assed angel with all the imagination of a piece of drywall." She walked back to the dressing table and looked at her image in the mirror. "I have had the best teachers in the world and I will not fail them."

Lyria then inhaled and exhaled deeply once and called out, "Arene, we need to talk." She had hardly finished the sentence when Arene appeared, as beautiful and icy as ever.

"It is time." Arene said, with neither inflection nor emotion. "You need to go. Only when you leave will I be able to return home."

Lyria nodded soberly and assumed a familiar posture in front of Arene, standing very straight, bouncing a little on her heels and with her hands, one over the other, at her waist. "I understand, Arene. There is just one matter that needs your attention and then you will be released to return to your home. I need your help. As soon as I enter the human world I intend to arrange a negotiation with the demon Crowley, currently running Hell and an angel named Hannah who appears to be caretaking Heaven these days. I have to see to the safety of my family and their friends and allies."

Lyria wouldn't have thought it possible, but Arene assumed an expression even more remote and detached. "Nonsense. The only reasonable strategy would be to avoid both until the last moment to maximize your chances of surviving long enough to complete your mission. Abandon this course of action."

Lyria looked at Arene for a long moment then smiled slightly as all of the tension left her body. She nodded. Arene briefly raised an eyebrow then nodded back and turned to go. Lyria coughed delicately and said, "Arene?" Arene turned back toward Lyria.

"Since this may be our last conversation there are a few things I need you to understand. The first is that I am a Winchester. That's on you, by the way. You're the one who made me one." Arene just sniffed. "There are two things Winchesters do not do. We do not abandon our family and we do not break our promises. I have two brothers on that rock and I promised our father I would look out for them and that is what I will do. My plan will maximize," she emphasized the word a little sardonically, "their safety from the beginning and thereby free me to concentrate on the mission." Arene's only response was a dismissive look.

Lyria paced away and back then smiled at her mother affectionately. "Arene, would you like to take a guess as to when my powers grew greater than yours?"

Arene raised an eyebrow but grudgingly answered, "I would say at approximately fifteen years."

"Actually, it was sometime between years thirteen and fourteen." Another raised eyebrow was Arene's only response. Lyria continued. "Have you ever wondered why, if my power was greater than yours, I never stopped you from beating me?" Lyria's gaze was very direct, but not unkind.

Arene replied, "I wondered, yes. I did not come to any satisfactory conclusion."

Lyria smiled. "It was because I needed you to know that no matter what, I would never harm you. I will never allow another to harm you. I know you find me as repulsive and confusing today as you did the day I was born," Lyria's smile became a little wistful. "But you gave me my life and you have kept me safe these twenty years. I honor you for that. "

Her voice hardened, just a tiny bit. "I would never raise a hand to you even if you continue to refuse to help me. However, I think we each need something and we should exchange favors."

Arene frowned. "I need nothing from you."

Lyria smiled but pointed out, "You need me to leave. You can't go until I do. And you can't force me. If I wanted to, I could just remain here, indefinitely. I'm Team Free Will, Arene. I have to choose to leave. So, what's it to be? A mutual standoff or mutual assistance?"

Arene glowered at Lyria impotently for a moment then relented. "What do you require?"

Lyria was young, but wise enough not to gloat. She explained that all she needed from Arene was for her to wait for a signal from Lyria before returning to Hell so it could appear that Lyria was handing her over in return for John Winchester's release. Arene agreed and prepared to leave.

Lyria said, "I hope you will be well, today and all days. I want you to know, Maman, that I love you very much." She grinned ruefully and held up a hand to forestall a biting rejoinder from Arene. "I know that means nothing to you . . . but I hold the hope that if I complete my mission, someday it will. Until then, fair well."

Arene left with no further comment.

Lyria let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. "Lesson of the day. Everything will look like it's all fucked up until it all works out. Winchester, fuck yeah!" She looked around the little room for a moment with a slight smile. "Time to go." The room faded around her as she looked at its four walls and in a burst of light she was gone.

Dean and Sam were laughing by the time Cass released them from the memory. Dean spoke first, "Little sister's got skills. She worked Arene like a pro." He laughed again as he had a thought. "Now I know why she got so angry each time I called her 'sister.'"

Sam sobered first and looked at Cass. "Cass, what exactly is 'the mission'? She wasn't clear about it at the bar and this memory didn't make it any clearer. What exactly is it she's trying to do?

Cass answered, "I know that it has to be completed within a year of her entering the world and I know that she herself doesn't know the full dimensions of it; she's figuring it out as she goes along. I don't think anyone really knows much more than that although I think Benny probably knows more than anyone. She says Benny is her 'Bobby.'"

Dean didn't care about the big picture right now. To be honest he rarely did. He cared about finding the newest member of the family and convincing her that they needed to stick together. "So, little sister likes to negotiate." He aimed his most shark-like grin at Sam and Cass. "Let's give her something to negotiate about." He laughed again, unreasonably happy. Sam and Cass laughed as well. Then they got down to planning.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 15**

 **Four days later, in a beach house who knows where**

Benny was partial to the early mornings. He always opened the kitchen windows so he could hear the seagulls and smell the sea air as it drifted in on the wind. He loved to sit at the long kitchen table with a cup of coffee and an actual newspaper and wait for Lyria to appear. What he loved most of all was knowing that eventually Lyria would appear, back from an op, done with a few long hours of studying her journal pages, or just down from a night's sleep. Benny was deeply content to be sitting in his kitchen with the knowledge that his girl would come soon and need something from him; comfort, understanding, carbs.

She seemed to be settling into her new reality. For the first few days after she parted from Cass, Sam and Dean it was nothing but sad songs and listless sighing. He'd had to prod her into working just to get her moving in a direction. His own very old heart broke for her; she was, after all, in many ways just a young girl and he would have happily given back the life she had given him if it meant she could live happily ever after with her prince charming. But that wasn't the life she had chosen and he knew it was his job to help her be who she wanted and needed to be.

So he prodded and chided and snapped at her to get it together, understanding instinctively she would respond best to the same rough handling she'd been exposed to during her growing years. And it worked well. Another young girl would have dissolved into tears and recriminations but Lyria appreciated the figurative slaps and gradually recovered, not as carefree and a little quieter than she had been but essentially herself, a creature of joy and purpose.

Benny heard her running down the stairs and looked up as Lyria swung through the kitchen door. She came around the table, put her arms around Benny from behind and bent down to kiss the top of his head, her two white braids swinging out and back as she did so.

"Good morning, Poppy. What sayeth the paper today?" Benny just grunted, put the paper down and looked her up and down, assessing her mood. The smile didn't reach her eyes yet but it was wider and came a bit more easily than it had yesterday. Benny smiled back at her.

Lyria got a cup of coffee and a container of milk then hopped up to sit on the counter top at an angle from Benny. She poured the milk into a shallow dish then took Juno out of an interior pocket of her vest, set her down next the saucer and patted her head. The three sipped in companionable silence for a few moments until the early morning calm was broken by Lyria's phone ringing Uptown Girl. Lyria said, "Van's texting. Where'd she go off to?"

As he watched Lyria take the phone out of the back pocket of her jeans Benny replied, "She took James out about an hour ago, I'm not sure why. You'll have to ask her."

Frowning at her phone, Lyria jumped down from the counter. "I'm not sure that's going to be possible anytime soon, Poppy. Take a look at this."

Benny took the phone but still looked at Lyria, a little alarmed. Partly that was because he understood her tones and demeanors better than anyone, but it was mostly because all of the loose items in the kitchen; dishes, silverware, pans and pots, had begun to vibrate ominously. He kept an eye on the knife block on the counter, full of blades of varying lengths and sharpness. Lyria's temper was up; that was always a delicate state of affairs. He looked down at the phone screen. There was a text message with some numbers below it.

 ** _Hey, Sis. Vanessa's gonna to be our guest for a while in the one place on the planet you can't get into, courtesy of your own sigils. Your brother Sam says that's called irony. I call it Checkmate. Word is you like to negotiate. One hour. Dean (your handsome brother)._**

Benny looked up at Lyria, puzzled. "Uh oh. What do the numbers mean?" He handed the phone back to her. She looked down at the text then loudly pounded the phone several times against the counter. Juno yelped, then ran and hid behind a bowl of pears. The kitchen wares continued to rattle around them.

Between clenched teeth, "They're coordinates. Le père would use them to let the boys know where to find him. I bet Dean thinks that choosing these particular coordinates is pretty," with a side glance at Benny, "freakin' funny. Son of a bitch!" Lyria danced a little in utter frustration, her fists clenched. She paced the kitchen, muttering angrily to herself until Benny had had enough. He walked to stand in front of her, stopping her forward motion. He just stood there and crossed his arms on his chest.

"Work now, rage later," he barked. Her stormy eyes met his defiantly but he just kept his gaze steady on hers. Gradually, the fire leached out of her eyes and as it did so the pans and appliances and silverware quieted and then were still.

"Besides," he added casually. "Let's not forget what's important here. I won the pool." He smiled with satisfaction. Lyria scowled at him then asked warily, "Who won the over/under?"

"Jace."

"Hah! Here's my silver lining. At least it wasn't Van. But Poppy, this is bad. This isn't what I wanted. Damn, damn, damn!" Benny wasn't concerned now; she might be pissed but the kitchen wasn't rocking so her temper was under control. Then her eyes slowly began to glow with a silvery light.

"Cass, that faithless bastard! I will flip him end over end into eternity for this! I will literally kick his ass to the end of the universe for breaking his word to me!"

Benny cleared his throat. "Sounds reasonable. But like I said, work now, kick faithless lover's ass later."

Lyria had to laugh. She went to Benny, leaned against his chest and put her arms around him. His arms came around her and she sighed with contentment. Benny had been the first person to ever hold her and even now his hugs were the most heavenly. He always steadied her. She rubbed her forehead, catlike, against his shirtfront then released him and stepped back.

"Time to remember a very important lesson, Poppy. Everything will look like it's all eff'd up until it all works out. At least I have the advantage. I know their plays, all their plays. And right from the jump they will absolutely underestimate me; that's just written in their genetic code. So, here's the 'To Do' list for today, (1) rescue Van, (2) take my self-satisfied brothers down a notch, and, (3) kick Cass's ass. Totally doable." Lyria picked up her coffee cup and drank, squinting out the window at the ocean, deep in thought. She chuckled.

Benny felt a bit of foreboding. That particular chuckle often announced something slightly insane coming down the pike.

* * *

Sam felt a line of sweat run down his back. This situation was totally out of hand and he was at a loss as to how to deescalate it. So he just kept bobbing and weaving, ducking and jumping as the sweat poured down his face and what seemed like an endless stream of books were hurled in his direction, courtesy of one really pissed off Vanessa Gaines. His famed 'gentle the hysterical virgin' voice was getting him nowhere fast. Vanessa had not taken kindly to him using the boomerang sigil Lyria had created for them to snatch her from her car and relocate her to the bunker. She wasn't a shy girl.

"Take me back now, you idiotic jackass!" Vanessa shouted at Sam, then heaved a couple more books at him. Sam thought briefly about when they'd first found the bunker; he'd been excited to have so many books. Now they were just an apparently endless weapon source for a woman he was honor bound not to hurt. He felt ridiculous. Worse, he knew he looked ridiculous dodging the continuous stream of missiles.

"I don't care who you are! I will gut you like a fish! I will break your knees!" Vanessa shrieked. Her blonde hair was whipping around her face and her tiny black glasses had slipped down her nose in a way Sam might have found rather adorable under other circumstances. The cobalt sundress she was wearing spun around her as she weaved between the bookcases looking for satisfyingly heavy books.

Calming somewhat, she laughed evilly. "No, I know, I'll just knock you unconscious and shave your head." She was leading with anger to mask the part of her frantic at once again feeling helpless. She was also worried that Lyria would do something reckless to retrieve her if she didn't get herself free soon. A tiny part of her psyche stood back clinically and wondered how all the familial dynamics were going to play out in this scenario. Then she told her ego to shut the hell up and let her Id take over as she drew back her arm to heave another tome toward Sam. Then she heard Lyria's voice, chiding her.

"Van, what's wrong with you?! We don't throw books. Books are treasures to be enjoyed and protected." Lyria's voice hardened. "My brother Sammy taught me that. Besides, there are so many better missiles for you to toss at him. There's that half-full whiskey decanter over to your left and on that stand over there is a nice, sharp scimitar."

Vanessa had dropped the book she was holding at the first sound of Lyria's voice and Sam sagged back to lean against the wall, breathing heavily and looking in shock at Lyria's image, translucent in the way that Arene's had been when Lyria summoned her from Hell. At Lyria's last words, though, he straightened up, a little alarmed at her bloodthirstiness.

For the moment, Lyria ignored Sam. She looked searchingly at Vanessa and Sam saw silent messages pass between them. Then Lyria asked, "Sister, are you well?"

Rather than answering immediately, Vanessa shook out her dress, brushed dust from her hair and arms then scowled and glared at Sam. She pointed at him, "That one took me from James. He scratched him too."

Lyria glared at Sam. "You not only stole my sister, you scratched my James? How much shit do you want to be in?"

Sam was confused. "Who's James?"

Lyria rolled her eyes. "You are completely friggin' hopeless.

"I didn't see any James. Whoever he is, he wouldn't have been scratched if she hadn't gone completely nuts." Too late Sam realized it would have been better to be a little more conciliatory toward his newly discovered sister and the spitting female who was after his knee caps, and more importantly, his hair. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Vanessa inching toward the whiskey decanter and moved to block her while keeping one eye on Lyria. This situation sucked.

Satisfied that Van was okay for the moment, stressed out but fine, Lyria decided to take matters in the order of how much they enraged her. Putting her hands on her hips she threw back her head and shouted, "Cass, you faithless dick, you betrayer of women! Get your ass down here you sorry piece of celestial flotsam! I'm gonna break off one of those tattered wings of yours and use it to dust this place!"

She lowered her chin and frowned at Sam. In a slightly less manic voice, "Seriously, you should dust this place." She waved a hand. "Never mind, I've taken care of it. You really should do a better job of taking care of your home." She just kept frowning grimly at him.

Sam knew it was now or never for getting some control over the situation. He stepped toward her and put his hands out in a pacifying gesture, saying, "I know you're angry and I understand why. But Cass didn't betray you. I promise. We found out by accident."

Lyria sneered. "By accident? What does that even mean!? You gave him a big hug and it just popped out like baby puke?" Vanessa laughed and sank down into the nearest chair. All that hurling and captive-related anxiety had worn her out so she decided to just relax and enjoy the show.

"Eww," Sam elegantly replied. "No, nothing like that. Cass wasn't the one who let it out – you were." At Lyria's startled look Sam continued, smirking a little. "Yes, it was you. You and Cass were speaking Enochian just before we all split up and the recording app on my phone happened to be on. I translated your conversation."

As Lyria looked marginally less homicidal now, Sam pushed on. "Cass isn't coming. He knows this family and he knows when family," heavy emphasis on the word, "needs to work crap out. And we will, work it out I mean. So could you please just calm down?"

Lyria had looked thoughtful at the beginning of the speech but by the end she was snarling again. "Calm down?" She turned to Vanessa. "Did this jackass just tell me to calm down?" Vanessa nodded sorrowfully then turned a gleeful 'you're in trouble now' look at Sam.

While glaring at Sam, Lyria asked, "Vanessa, what would be the opposite of 'calm'?" Vanessa frowned thoughtfully and said, "Agitated maybe?"

Lyria smiled at Sam. It was not a nice smile. "I am not going to 'calm down' I'm gonna 'agitate up'. I'm gonna agitate all the Hell up. And I swear, if you use the voice on me it will not end well for you. Are we clear?"

Sam opened his mouth, shut it and looked distressed. He was outnumbered and outclassed, even though one of them wasn't even actually in the room. He cast around frantically in his mind for something to say that was neither condescending nor incendiary. He couldn't think of anything so just mentally said, "Screw it." And doubled down.

"You know, you're pretty bossy for such a short person." Sam crossed his arms, leaned against the wall again in a casual move calculated to really piss both of them off.

It worked. "Who are you calling short, you yeti?! I am entirely above average for a human female." Sam's aim was impressive. Lyria was a little sensitive about her height as everyone in both of her families was taller than she. Glowering, she added, "And, you know what, I wouldn't keep insulting someone who could easily give you donkey ears."

Vanessa nodded. "She's got a point, speaking as someone who wore those ears for one very long weekend." She shook her head, then had a thought. "That reminds me, who won the pool on this?"

"Pool?" Sam asked.

"Pool. We've always got a pool or two going. Lyria's fond of betting on things. Which is a little surprising because she's really bad at it."

"She's right, I am. I'm also bad at poker," Lyria agreed matter-of-factly. "I can't do blank face."

"Blank face?' By this time Sam had the rhythm and turned to Vanessa for clarification. She didn't disappoint. "Poker face. She means that she doesn't have a good poker face. Everything she's feeling is right on her face." She smiled fondly and played with the bracelets on her left arm. She pushed her little black glasses back up on her nose and then looked severely at Lyria. "You didn't answer my question."

Lyria smirked. "Poppy won. Jace won the over/under. So, hah! Loser."

"You're the loser, and a bad loser at that." Vanessa shook her head, yawned and stretched her arms above her head in a way that made Sam aware it would probably only be adding fuel to the fire if he was caught staring at her breasts. He coughed and turned around to Lyria who was frowning down at Vanessa. Of course, looking at Lyria was disconcerting as well because he couldn't get used to seeing the furniture through her head and torso, which was all that was visible. But it was better than being called a pervert.

"Better a sore loser than a cheater, which is what you are," Lyria responded a little absently because she could see the wheels turning in Sam's brain and that did not suit her interests at all. "Van, would you let me have a few minutes with my brother?" She pointed toward the hallway. "There's a kitchen through there. I'm sure there's coffee, as well as all sorts of sharp implements in case you want to resume tossing crap at Sam." She smiled a little evilly at Sam again.

Vanessa nodded, got up and ambled toward the hallway. She threw over her shoulder, "This isn't over yet, Yeti." She laughed and walked out.

For a minute there was blessed silence. Sam looked at Lyria as though he was trying to memorize her, or discover their family resemblance or even just find something meaningful to say. Thank god she saved him from that.

With a sudden affected casualness that didn't at all mask her vulnerability she asked, "How's Cass doing? Is he okay?"

Sam took a breath and said gently, "He's doing about as well as you are, I imagine. He loves you very much, he misses you and he feels guilty that your secret's out, even though it wasn't his fault."

Lyria didn't say anything for a moment, then, "Does it seem to you that Cass is only really happy when he's torturing himself about something?" She grinned.

Sam grinned back and laughed a little. "That's Cass, God's most conflicted angel."

Lyria smiled reminiscently. "Yeah, he's got this whole Heathcliff thing going for him. You would not believe how much work it was getting him to have sex with me. He was a bundle of inhibitions inside a ball of scruples surrounded by a box of principles." She laughed and nodded in satisfaction at Sam, "Totally worth it, though. Totally."

Sam looked at her for a moment in speechless discomfort. Then, "Can we talk about something, anything else?" Lyria suppressed a smile at the desperate tenor of his question.

She nodded, then put her hands, one over the other at her waist. Sam realized now that she did this when she was nervous and wondered what she was nervous about. Before he could ask, Lyria began speaking.

"This is all eff'd up beyond belief and I don't think you and Dean are going to like how it ends but as long as it's out there and we're in here I'd like to say something I've wanted to say for a long time." She paused and Sam just looked at her in puzzlement and a little apprehension.

Lyria looked Sam dead in the eye and said, "I'm so proud of you." Sam reeled internally in shock. It was the last thing he expected to hear. She wasn't done.

"It was so hard to see you pushed and pulled, this way and that, year after year like a game piece as the demons groomed you to be their champion and Lucifer's vessel."

She looked away from him but not before he saw a look of shame in her eyes. "It was my grandfather who did all of that to you, or it was done on his wishes. I would understand completely if you hated me for that, for it all.

They just kept coming at you and you were betrayed so often I feared for you, and for everyone because of you. I kept telling myself you were so smart, smarter than anyone and you'd figure it out in time to stop the Apocalypse."

She paused again and smiled lovingly at him. "But in the end it wasn't your brain that won the day; it was your heart. It was your great big beautiful, sloppy Winchester heart that wouldn't let Lucifer win. It is a blessing to be able to tell you how proud I am of the courage it took for you to follow your heart right straight to Hell to save everybody else." Two solitary tears slid down Lyria's cheeks and dripped from her face but she just kept smiling at him.

Sam felt some tears of his own threatening to escape but he blinked to keep them in check. Everything she was talking about felt like so long ago and so much else had happened since then he'd almost forgotten there were parts of his past he could be proud of. He looked away, cracked his knuckles and said, quietly, "Thanks for that."

Feeling the mood, Lyria sought to lighten it. "That's not going to stop me from kicking your ass for this fiasco, you dick. You stole Van and you scratched James and I will make you pay." She smiled evilly. "Word of a Winchester."

Sam smiled back. "Bring it, little sis."

Lyria narrowed her eyes at him but let it go; Van would be back any minute. "About Van. She is brilliant and courageous to an extraordinary degree. But she was possessed for five long, horrific years and she has scars just like you and Dean. Be gentle with her." Pause. "But don't let her know 'cause she'll kick your ass if she thinks you're trying to (air quotes) 'take care' of her." Lyria rolled her eyes. With perfect timing, Vanessa strolled back through the doorway sipping a cup of coffee. She had obviously used the time to wrap her part-British, part-psychiatrist reserve around herself and was perfectly calm, even smiling slightly.

Lyria exchanged a long look with her and was satisfied with what she saw. She paced back and forth a moment with her thumbs hooked into her front pockets and fingers of her right hand tapping in time to her pacing as though thinking about her next move. She continued the tapping as she turned back to Vanessa. Vanessa raised an eyebrow and was careful to look straight into Lyria's eyes.

Lyria raised an eyebrow in return then gestured toward the far wall with her left hand. "I gave these knuckleheads that sigil up there so they could bar their home against any unwanted supernatural being, including me. So, it's a little bit my fault that it's impossible for me to get to you in here. I'm going to have to meet with Dean and negotiate for your release. You'll be perfectly safe and appropriately entertained." She pinned Sam with a look. "Because my yeti brother is going to guarantee your safety and comfort, aren't you, Sammy?"

Sam winced at the 'Sammy' but was glad enough to stammer that she would be perfectly safe, he promised.

Lyria laughed. "If you really want payback, Van, just talk to him about Cass and me having sex. The thought of it seems to cause an explosion of his neurons – imagine what some details would do." She laughed again; Sam just scrubbed his face with his hands and wished someone would knock him senseless and be done with it.

Lyria continued, "Or you could challenge him to a game of Chess-tequila shots-truth or dare." Sam looked confused; Lyria ignored him. "Sammy is not a bad Chess player," she gave him a dismissive look, "although I think he's a little too quick to fall back on mid-twentieth century Russian defenses when he's backed into a corner. He'll give you a decent game." She smiled a little mockingly. "After all, he taught me."

She turned to Sam one last time. "I am holding you personally responsible for my sister's well-being. You might want to spend a little time considering how you'd look with donkey ears if you're not inclined to take me seriously."

With one last minatory look, she was gone. As she faded out she heard Vanessa ask, "Got any tequila in this dump?"

* * *

 **CHAPTER 16**

 **Windham Park, Collier Township, Illinois**

The park had changed since the last time a Winchester man had visited. Instead of grass, the ground was now covered with those rubber bits that were all the rage for their cushioning qualities. The jungle gym was gone; in its place was a series of plastic tunnels and slides in vibrant yellows, blues and oranges. The swings were the same though, as were the benches ringing the play area, which had recently received a new coat of light gray paint.

Dean parked Baby so she was facing the playground, got out, leaned up against the hood and watched a group of children chase each other around and through the tunnels. He looked over toward the slides at a little girl in a green shorts set shouting gleefully as she slid excitedly to the ground. He looked over at the swings but didn't see the children who were actually there, instead he saw Lyria, his Dad leaning down to whisper in her ear and her wide smile in response.

Dean was exhausted. He'd slept little over the past several days and had been awash in emotion since Cass had shown them the memory of Dad and Lyria. He didn't know what to think or feel except that for the first time, in a long time, he was acutely feeling the agony of his Dad's death again. Maybe that was because he'd have liked someone, anyone to tell him what to do. He was the head of this family now but he had no idea how to handle an absurdly powerful half-human half-sister. He didn't know what to do with her or for her.

He sighed and let it go. He had a particular goal today and that was to ensure it ended with Lyria understanding he and Sam weren't putting up with this crap of her keeping her distance to protect them. Protect them?! It was crazy. Whatever she was up to he was sure he and Sam could help. She obviously wasn't averse to companionship. She had the two women, and Benny.

As though Dean had conjured him, Benny suddenly appeared on the playground, walking toward him. He looked much as he always had for as long as Dean had known him, down to the salt and pepper beard and black watch cap. The big difference, which Dean had first noticed when he and Lyria visited the bunker, was how relaxed and at peace he seemed. Dean had assumed it was because Benny no longer suffered the burden of being a vampire but now he thought there was probably more to it. And that more was Lyria.

Benny stopped a couple of feet away and smiled at Dean. "Hello again, brother. It's good to see you," he said in his slow Louisiana drawl. "You look pretty good for a man who's had his reality turned upside down and inside out." Benny's smile was genuine but his gaze was watchful. He didn't assume the genial tone of Dean's text message meant that was how he actually felt toward Lyria.

Regardless of Lyria's expressed wishes he had never been convinced that this separation she insisted on was in her best interests. He wouldn't do anything she didn't want but he was prepared to make a case if he thought there was a case to be made. Although ever since they'd been in Purgatory together he'd considered Dean a brother, Lyria's wellbeing was his primary concern and if it wasn't Dean's he needed to know now so he could do whatever was needed to prevent her from being hurt.

Dean crossed his arms and looked unsmilingly at Benny. "It's always good to see you, Benny. But I was expecting my sister. We have a lot to talk about. Does you being here mean Lyria's not coming?"

"No, she'll be along directly. She just needed to take care of a couple of things. And I told her I wanted to have a chat with you first. If that's okay with you." Benny's gaze was mildly enquiring and his smile remained amiable but Dean wasn't fooled. Benny was often most dangerous when he was smiling. It made him an incredibly valuable ally and made Dean loath to have him as an enemy. All that remained was to see if their interests and viewpoints were aligned.

Benny turned around and leaned against the car next to Dean and for a moment they both just watched the children play. Then, without taking his eyes from them Dean said, "You came into my house under false pretenses, Benny. You don't owe me anything, it's Sam and me who're in your debt, but I'd like to know why you didn't just tell me what was going on. If you had, maybe I wouldn't feel like such a jackass."

Benny sighed. "Lyria told me you were in trouble and that was the way to help you. As soon as I saw you I knew she was right. You were going down for the third time, brother, and you didn't even know it. I've seen the look before. I knew she could help you and that in the condition you were in you were likely to refuse if we were up front about it. You had that guilt stink all over you and, knowing you, I knew you would feel obliged to suffer." Benny's lips quirked up at the side. "Lyria knew you would refuse any attempt by her to ease your suffering."

He laughed softly. "I admit I didn't know Lyria would be doing what she calls her "Stepford girl" routine but she was determined to be completely unmemorable to you and I was determined to do whatever she needed me to do. She feels a strong sense of responsibility toward you and your brother.

To be honest," Benny turned and smiled at Dean, "I couldn't care less if you feel like a jackass. You're 100% better than you were that night and I expect Sam is as well. My girl helped you and it gave her great peace to heal her brothers and fulfill her promise to your father. The rest is just details." Benny waved them away.

"And by the way, Dean, you don't owe me anything, in fact you're the reason I have everything I could possibly want now. When Lyria came to me telepathically in Purgatory she told me it was because I was a family debt that needed to be repaid. She took the vampire out of me and if that had been all it still would have been a greater gift than I'd ever been given or hoped to be given."

Benny abruptly stopped speaking. Dean looked over at him and was astonished to see there was a sparkle of tears in his eyes. Benny blinked and they were gone. He smiled and continued his story. "Lyria had me go to the portal before she made me human again, so I could get out right away. Not only that but she'd left a car, clothes and money for me. After a couple of days she even contacted me to ask how I was doing.

I could tell then she was tense. It was about a week before she was to enter the human world and she was suddenly frantic because she had realized there were all kinds of critical little details she didn't know. Like how ladies peed." He laughed heartily. Dean looked at him with widened eyes and a slight embarrassed flush. "What the Hell?"

Benny nodded. "I know. But she had learned everything she knew from three men and as she told me, quite seriously, none of you had ever been near a lady when she was peeing so she didn't know how it was done. She was quite beside herself but it was a revelation to me. After hundreds of years of one kind of living or another I had finally found my true purpose. So I explained lady peeing to her and then suggested we meet up and travel together until she got her sea legs. We've been together ever since.

In every way but blood, Lyria is my daughter and I'm going to take care of her for as long as she needs me. Nothing and no one is going to change that. If you try to hurt her or get in her way at all I will stop you myself. I don't necessarily agree with this hands off policy of hers but that's another matter. If she says we keep our distance then that's what we'll do. What she wants, what she needs matters to me; it's all that matters to me. Take that any way you want. Be mad about it if you want but that's the way it's gonna be."

Dean looked thoughtfully over at the swing set again. He looked at Benny, then off into the distance. When he finally spoke, it was very quietly and slowly. "I don't have any objections, Benny. I don't have any right to them. For the third time you've helped out a Winchester. She's lucky to have you; we're lucky she has you to look out for her. Sam and I are in your debt, again. I'm just sorry you think I'm so childish or petty I would resent you. She deserves to have a father and she couldn't have a better one than you." He finally turned back to look Benny in the eyes. "Thank you. For everything."

Lyria walked up just as Dean finished. For the very first time she smiled approvingly at him and said, "That was well done, brother. Well done, indeed." She went to Benny and hugged him. Benny kissed the top of her head then said, "I'll leave you two to talk. He means well. Mostly. Go easy on him, won't you?"

Lyria grasped Benny's arms and leaned back so she could see his dear face. With an affectionate smile she said, "Not even a little bit." Then she smiled at Dean again. He didn't like that smile. He'd seen that smile in the mirror. It usually meant he was about to kick someone's ass.

Lyria tossed Benny a glowing stone and he disappeared. She took his place, leaning against Baby and looking over the playground. Dean and Lyria Winchester watched the children playing, each considering the strategy of the next move.

* * *

And speaking of next moves, Sam and Vanessa were each silently contemplating a few of their own. After Lyria's image faded away, Sam spent a moment warily assessing Vanessa's mood and, reasonably confident she was done throwing random objects at him for the moment, he glommed on to Lyria's suggestion. Not the one about her and Cass's sex life, not now, not ever. But if he could interest Vanessa in a game of chess they could pass the interval in a reasonably civilized fashion while Dean spent some quality time knocking sense into Lyria's obviously Winchester-rock hard skull.

In response to Vanessa's query he puttered around the common area for a few minutes, returning to the table with a tray containing a chess set, a bottle of Patrón and two shot glasses.

With what he hoped was a relaxed smile he said, "You'll have to explain the game to me." He gestured for her to sit at the head of the long table and took the chair to her right, pushing aside all the detritus of his research and throwing his jacket across the back of his chair. When she didn't say anything he just let the silence stretch as he set up the board, automatically setting up white on her side of the table. As Dean always said, sooner or later women always wanted to talk. He would just wait her out.

As a shrink, Vanessa knew the value of a calculated stillness so she took the seat at the head of the table, relaxed back into it and let the silence linger, just watching him set up the pieces and thinking about what she wanted to accomplish and how long she might have to do it. She even took a moment to admire his muscular forearms and scholar's profile. She kept her expression mild but inside she grinned. This was going to be a lot of fun. She felt no need to speak. Sam was the one whose nerves were obviously shot. Eventually he'd feel compelled to talk.

She was right. Mentally damning Dean's useless adages, Sam broke. Adopting what he hoped was a casual tone and expression Sam asked, "I get the chess part, how do tequila shots and Truth-or-Dare factor in?"

Vanessa waited a beat, then another, then, "Well, I would think it would be self-evident," she said a little pityingly and Sam squirmed in discomfort, "You move, I move. If you lose a piece, you take a shot and have to either answer a question truthfully (and no cheaping out with just a 'yes' or 'no') or accept a dare." She looked up from the board and tilted her head so that her long blonde hair swung out to the side. With a slight smile she said, "Clear enough?"

Sam swallowed. It was going to be a long day. He palmed a black and a white pawn and held out his fists. She tapped one; he opened it to show the white pawn. He replaced the pieces and as quickly as he did she moved a pawn forward. For several minutes there was total silence again as they assessed each other's abilities with the skill of veteran chess players. Sam drew first blood.

Calmly, Vanessa poured a shot and threw it back in one fluid motion. She then looked enquiringly at Sam. For a moment, Sam was a little disoriented and he realized he was in a bad way when he thought the sight of her drinking a shot of tequila was one of the sexiest things he'd seen in months. He shook the thought away and returned her questioning look with one of his own. She put the empty shot glass down with a snap and sighed. "Now you say, 'Truth or Dare', Sammy." She smirked.

Sam snapped, "The name is Sam, not Sammy." Vanessa smirked again. This was really way too easy. "Whatever you say, Sammy."

Sam gritted his teeth and tried to remember the objective was to avoid bloodshed until Dean got back with Lyria. "'Truth or Dare'."

"Oh, I'll go for 'truth', I guess." Vanessa again relaxed back in her chair and smiled innocently. Sam had lived this long, in fulfillment of some very long odds, on his ability to sense danger. He sensed it now. "And no 'one word' answers, right?" She merely nodded.

Sam looked back down at the board, calculating his next moves – the one on the board and the one with her. He looked up and asked, "When, and how did you first know about what's out there?"

He'd surprised her, she had to admit. It couldn't matter less what she told him, so she told him the truth. "I would have been around six I guess," she picked up a rook and contemplated it a moment before setting it back down on its original space. "My father was a lorry repairman, a truck mechanic." Correctly interpreting the surprise on his face she smiled a little mockingly. "You Yanks. You think everyone with a British accent grew up on some posh estate, a la Downton Abbey. Any Briton could tell you my accent is strictly working class. I work hard at keeping it that way. Anyway, lorry mechanic was not his only 'occupation.' Like you, he was a hunter. So, I grew up much like I understand you did, although since we had our mum I didn't move around. Our father would just disappear for several weeks at a time, several times a year. At first we didn't know why, then we knew not to talk about it. Pop didn't talk about it and the way the years wore on him was," she aimlessly picked up another piece, then replaced it as well, "not optimal."

Sam understood that phrase. He had grown up with that same father. He thought that was it but as he was searching for some neutral response she began speaking again. "He was killed by a shape-shifter when I was fifteen. The day after his body was returned to us, mum burned it in the backyard. The day after that we moved two hundred miles away to her sister's in Chichester. The day after that, she told us that nothing before that day was ever to be spoken of again. That was twenty years ago. She died eight years ago, never having spoken his name again."

She looked at Sam calmly, then moved her knight. "Your move."

* * *

For several long moments, Lyria and Dean just looked in silence at the playground, each remembering the last time she had been there, each mourning the father they'd lost shortly after. Lyria broke the silence, "This was the first place I asked Poppy to bring me; we drove Maggie for almost two days to get here. I sat over there on the swings." She smiled at the memory. "It makes me happy to remember that the first time I felt real joy was when I was flying through the air with le père looking out for me." She shook off the nostalgia. "Each time we pass a park I insist on stopping to play on the swings. I know I am a trial to Poppy but he never says no."

The end of Dean's mouth quirked up. "Dad would have said 'no', you know." She laughed. "Yes, of course he would have." They fell silent again.

"Have you taught Cass how to drive Maggie, yet?" Lyria asked. Dean just shook his head. "If it makes you feel better he does spend hour after hour just sitting in the car, not going anywhere whatsoever."

Lyria thought about that for a second. "Actually, it does make me feel better. Is that wrong?"

Dean looked at her in astonishment. "Don't ask me. I'm no judge of what's right or wrong." He paused. "Do you miss Maggie?"

Lyria thought about that for a second as well. "I'm happy she's in a good home. And I have James. I sent my image to the bunker a little while ago to make sure Van was okay and found out Sammy scratched him when he stole her. Just so you know, I'm going to make him pay for that."

Dean looked at her, puzzled. "James? You named a car James?" A sudden insight made him laugh. "An Aston Martin?" She nodded, grinning. "Awesome."

"Aston Martin DB5, James Bond's car. Sam didn't pick up on it. He kept asking who 'James' was." They shared a smirk. In the next moment they both felt awkward and fell silent again.

Dean spoke first this time. "Sam didn't 'steal' Vanessa. You can't steal people. It's called kidnapping. He kidnapped her; he didn't steal her." His tone was a little snotty for Lyria's liking.

She looked at him impatiently. "That makes no sense. Van isn't a kid and she wasn't napping when he stole her." She tilted her head in challenge. "That is a stupid word."

Dean put up a hand and snapped. "I'm not having this fight again, kid."

That was so not the right thing to say. Lyria fumed. "Who are you calling a kid? Parts of me are ancient. Don't you dare condescend to me."

Dean shrugged and snarked. "If you don't want me to think you're a kid then you shouldn't be so touchy. Only kids go off on everything someone says."

Lyria was in a quandary. If she responded the way she wanted she would be proving his point. She had no idea why Dean aggravated her so much. Benny could have explained it to her but if he had told either her or Dean that they were frighteningly alike one or both would have decked him.

Lyria could feel her internal clock ticking. Not that clock. She needed to get on with saying what she wanted to while she still had the time. Instead she stalled, Winchester-like, rather than deal with the high emotional stakes. Without looking at Dean, she said a little petulantly, "I don't know why I should listen to you anyway. Who can trust the judgment of a guy who thinks the best rock song with the word 'free' in it is Free Birdwhen Free Fallin'is twice as good." She looked at him innocently, perfectly aware that she'd lit a match. She wasn't disappointed in Dean's reaction.

"What the Hell are you talkin' about? Obviously Free Bird is better than Free Fallin'. Check any top ten list." She just waved a hand dismissively. He fumed. "What could you possibly be basing that idiotic opinion on?"

Lyria wrinkled her nose at him, sure that would pop his temper and responded, "I base it on the fact that Tom Petty rules."

"Rules what?" Dean snapped.

"Rules everything and everybody." Lyria replied calmly. There were a lot of things she wasn't sure of, Tom Petty's relative place in the Rock Pantheon was not one of them.

Dean was beginning to think the girl was nuts. He said the thought aloud. "I'm beginning to think you're completely nuts." He shook his head as though to clear it and said, "Free Bird is better. You just need to take my word for it. After all, I'm the oldest which means I'm always right. And right now we need to talk about this family and this crazy idea of yours that we can't be together and you have to 'protect us'." His air quotes were a master expression of sarcasm.

Lyria sighed silently. She'd enjoyed the argument; it was like the imaginary ones she used to have with him when she was growing up. But she wasn't a child. She needed to get this done, get Van and get on with her life. Lounging out here pretending they could be anything but strangers to each other was dangerously self-indulgent. The protective bubble she'd created around the park was bound to draw attention eventually and she couldn't afford to keep it in place for much longer.

"I'll tell you what I told Sam. This is not going to end the way you think you want it to end. But before we get to that I need to tell you something." He looked the question at her; after a second she looked back at the swing set. "It'll be easier if you don't look at me while I'm talking."

In response, Dean looked back at the playground. He didn't say anything but he did nudge her shoulder with his. Lyria felt a little stinging in her eyes and ruthlessly suppressed it.

"Chatty Cass would have told you I was born connected to our father. Everything in this world came to me filtered through what he saw, what he heard and felt. In a very real, literal sense, he was my whole world. It was a scary world but I always felt safe with him."

Dean looked at her profile and saw a slight smile although he couldn't imagine looking back fondly on that existence. Like with Benny, he remained uncharacteristically silent, letting her show herself to him. The smile faded from her face as she continued.

"I knew months ahead of time that he might die; I saw all the omens and had calculated all the possible paths he could take. They each led to the same end point, he being who he was. Le père was always true to his nature." She looked down at her hands, now clasped at her waist.

"But I didn't understand what it meant or how it would feel when he was gone. How could I? He was my true north, the only real thing I had from the moment of my birth. One minute our connection was there, wrapped around and through every sensation and feeling and awareness in my life. The next moment he was . . . . just gone, and inside me was this vast emptiness. I knew not how to go on, how to survive this loss." Her intermittent accent had thickened as she talked.

Lyria hadn't counted on the cost of this memory trip and was surprised at her own reaction. All of a sudden her chest was tight and breathing became painful. She stopped talking abruptly, embarrassed at acting like a baby in front of her big brother and determined to get herself under control. Dean shifted infinitesimally, dropped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. He leaned down and in her ear whispered, "I know."

Suddenly she was able to breathe again and the weight on her chest eased. A single tear slid down her cheek. "Yes, you do." She turned and smiled at him briefly before turning away again. "That's what saved me, I think."

Dean didn't have any idea what to say to that but fortunately she didn't seem to require a response. After only a brief pause she began again. "It was too big, too awful for me to understand, as young as I was. The only thing that helped was that you were as lost as I was. I guess that sounds odd. I was so angry with him for dying, so guilty that I couldn't stop it and so broken that at first I couldn't see any way forward. But you were feeling everything I was and that comforted me. I wish you could have known back then that there was one other person out in the universe who felt as you did."

She wiped another single tear away and gifted him with a little smile before turning her gaze back to the swings. "So I built Maggie while you rebuilt Baby, and learned the one form of therapy that has worked for me ever since. You were the one who helped me get through a time when I thought I might go mad with grief. I have always wanted to thank you for that." She turned and smiled up at him again. He squeezed her shoulder because he couldn't trust himself to talk. She seemed to get that. She finished it out.

"After a lot of time passed, I realized that of the two of us, you actually had it worse." Dean raised an eyebrow. From everything he now knew of her upbringing she had had it much worse all around than he or Sam ever had. He had to ask, "In what way exactly did I have it worse?"

"After père was gone you had no one to fill that hole inside you; you just had to learn to live with it." She leaned against him very gingerly, as though she thought he might object, or disappear. "I had you." Dean didn't know what to do with that information.

"You became my new true north after le père left and so I was healed. You have been the best of brothers, you and Sam." She stepped away from him, turned and looked up into his face, love written all over it so that Dean's throat closed. "But you were also a great father during a time I still needed one. Thanks for that." She walked away toward the swing set and Dean remained leaning on Baby, trying to collect his thoughts and sort out his emotions. Where were all the bad jokes when you really needed one?

* * *

 **CHAPTER 17**

Sam was listing badly to the left in his chair. That was what you got when you downed six shots of tequila on an empty stomach in a little less than an hour and a half. The good news was that since they'd started playing chess Vanessa hadn't tossed anything at him and, surprisingly, had confined her questions to fairly innocuous queries regarding his travels and education. To switch it up he had accepted a dare and although it was a little embarrassing he had managed to pat his head and rub his tummy simultaneously. He was aware he looked completely ridiculous the entire time. He was also aware from Vanessa's laughter that that was the point. Prolonged exposure to her was not exactly good for his self-esteem.

With three shots in her she was showing no ill effects whatsoever. After the first, devastating response to his question he'd kept the following two less personal, learning that she'd won a scholarship to medical school in London where she'd met an American med student. They'd married and moved to Boston shortly after graduating to take up residencies in his hometown. That was as far as he got. He was dying to know what had happened with the husband, and not just because he was drunk enough now to wish they could forget all this other nonsense and head for his room. It was getting increasingly necessary to remind himself that it wasn't civilized to stare at a woman's chest across a chess board.

Vanessa was not having Sam's troubles, being the better and, now, more sober chess player. She calculated they had about twenty minutes left to kill and thought she'd see if she couldn't complete two objectives, no three. First, lance the emotional boil Sam Winchester was carrying around in his psyche as she knew Lyria was hoping she could, see how good a kisser he was, and get the hell out of here. Thinking strategically, she maneuvered so that Sam was able to take one of her rooks. She threw back her fourth shot and smiled blindingly at him. "'Truth'" she said.

Sam was trying to remember the object here but his big brain was really sleepy and his little brain was demanding some attention. Feeling reckless, and reacting to a subconscious imperative, he asked Vanessa, "Don't think, just answer off the top of your head. Tell me the one thing you've done you regret most."

Despite Sam's direction, Vanessa didn't answer for a moment. She looked at Sam searchingly then down at the board. She pick up her queen and looked at it as though it could tell her something, then gently replaced it. "Off the top of my head, I'd have to say slicing my husband from crotch to throat and then snapping the neck of my three-year old daughter." She sent a mild, unreadable look his way then said, "Your move."

This should have sobered Sam up but her answer actually had the opposite effect because he was now a roiling mass of alcohol, sexual attraction and dangerous empathy. He absently moved a knight, trying to figure out what to say but before he could she moved her queen, took the knight and said, "Check."

Sam unsteadily poured his seventh shot and threw it back, swallowing most of it, the rest splattering down his face and throat. He looked at Vanessa. "Truth" he said. He knew what was coming and it was only fair. Without a pause, she said, "Same question." Sam closed his eyes and opened them again. Looked straight into Vanessa's eyes.

"I bullied a young girl and used her affection for Dean and me to get her to help me. I dragged her into a mess she had no business being in and I knew it. I got her gutted and left to die in a motel bathtub. I've done a lot of truly, truly bad things in my life but right now, that's what I regret most. Being the reason one of the best friends we ever had, one of the best people who Dean and I've ever known is dead." He looked back down at the chessboard, which wavered a bit before him. He tried to look as though he was considering his next move and reminded himself that, toasted or not, emotionally wrecked or not he was a Winchester and there were certain things they didn't do, chief among them was cry in front of chance-met women, especially ones they wanted to get naked with. He cleared his throat and picked up and then replaced a couple of pieces as though casually working through a strategy.

Vanessa looked at Sam's bowed head and since he couldn't see it, let a little of the pity she felt reflect in her face for a moment. But her window was narrowing and if she was going to be any kind of help she needed to get on with it. Matching his mask of nonchalance she said, "Ah, yes, your friend Charlie." Sam's head snapped up and he pinned her with a sharp look. "Lyria told me about her; she called Charlie her first real imaginary friend." She smiled. Sam grimaced. She continued, "Lyria's pretty pissed about that whole thing."

"Yeah, so is Dean. He said that it should have been me, not Charlie who died. He's right."

Vanessa tapped a piece against the board to break through the unfocused, pained look in Sam's eyes. He shook his head to clear it and just sat back in his chair for a moment, then rubbed a hand over his face and looked back down at the chess board even though he wasn't really seeing it. He needed her to think he was handling this.

When she knew he was listening again, Vanessa said, deliberately casual, "Lyria's not mad that Charlie died. She's mad about what you've done to her since then." She leaned back in her chair, crossed one leg over the other and bounced her foot rhythmically to give Sam time to process that.

The statement made no sense to Sam. "What the Hell does that even mean? She's dead, how could I, or anyone for that matter, do anything more to her?"

"Well, Lyria says that when you insist that Charlie's death is your fault you steal her honor." Vanessa shrugged and smiled a little at Sam's look of impatient confusion. "She sees Charlie as a warrior who fell in battle. As her friend your responsibility is to honor her sacrifice but instead you created a narrative in which she was someone who was so weak she became a victim of your whims and manipulations."

Sam was suddenly, viciously angry. "Lady, you don't know what you're talking about and neither does she. You didn't know her and you don't need to say another word about her."

Vanessa elegantly shrugged again, knowing that would exacerbate Sam's anger. "This isn't that deep as far as I can tell. Either Charlie was a friend and warrior who made her choices and died as a result of them or she was incapable of making those choices and her death was your fault. Was she a child; was she mentally or emotionally disabled?" She lifted an eyebrow in inquiry.

"Shut up about Charlie! She wasn't a damn child and she wasn't disabled in any way. She was brilliant and clever and thoughtful. And she had more courage than anyone I've ever met. She would do anything for a friend; that's who Charlie was." He stopped and just panted, close to tears.

Vanessa looked at him calmly and said, "Exactly." She looked back down at the board and moved her queen. Without looking up she said, "She doesn't sound like someone who could have been bullied or coerced. And she doesn't sound like someone who would have wanted one of the men she thought of as her brothers to destroy himself with guilt over her death."

Sam abruptly got up from the table and strode out of the room. But before Vanessa could take advantage of his absence he turned around and walked back in, calmly if unsteadily. Without saying another word he sat back down, blinked several times to try to clear his head and sent what he hoped was a neutral look over at the pretty woman who had just ripped his guts out without ever laying a hand on him. "Whose move is it?"

"You're up, Sammy," Vanessa said, with a smirk, deliberately irritating him as a means of distraction. She knew he needed something to focus on to distance himself from the emotional shitstorm he was obviously determined to avoid.

Sam shot her an irritated look but turned his gaze to the board. His options were limited and as he painfully harnessed his increasingly fragmented mental faculties he could vaguely sense that he was destined to lose this game. Partly this was because he was now completely toasted and partly because he was not as focused as he needed to be. He wouldn't even consider the most obvious reason; Vanessa was a better chess player than he was.

Sam picked up his bishop. He hoped Dean would come back soon to save him from the ignominy of losing this game to a woman who didn't even seem like she was really paying attention to it. She was just sitting over there, bouncing her foot up and down, drawing attention to her long legs and silky blue sundress. She turned her bracelets on her wrist, tilted her head and smiled at him until he forgot what he was doing. He looked at the bishop in his hand and suddenly remembered that it was his move. He moved the bishop then sagged back in his chair.

Vanessa's smile widened as she looked at the board and she shook her head at Sam. Her queen took his bishop; she looked at the pieces remaining then up at Sam. "Checkmate."

Sam looked blearily at the board and saw she was right. The only saving grace was that Dean wasn't here to see him go down in defeat. He tipped over his king and reached out a hand to shake Vanessa's, saying, "Good game." She looked at his hand, then back up into his face and said, "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Sam thought he was probably forgetting a crapload of somethings but couldn't actually zone in on what she might be talking about so he just looked inquiringly at her. She enlightened him.

"I took your bishop. Truth or dare, Winchester. Pick one." Sam was goddamned if he was going to puke up any more guts in her presence so before she'd even finished talking he said, "Dare."

Vanessa got up out of her chair, strolled around the table then leaned over Sam, placing one hand on each arm of his chair, effectively trapping him beneath her. He had a moment to think about the scent of lilacs, to feel the heat coming off her body and her hair gently brushing his face as he tilted up his head to look into her eyes, mere inches from his. He swallowed.

Vanessa leaned in further and when her mouth was just a pencil width from his said, "I dare you to kiss me."

Again, she'd barely completed the words when Sam captured her lips with his, simultaneously lifting his hands to frame her face. The gentleness of his hands was a wildly erotic contrast to the roughness of his mouth imprinting his escalating urgency on hers. For a moment she met his eagerness with a matching passion and her hands moved from the chair to slide up his arms. He shifted to stand up so as to take her more fully into his arms but she pushed him back down and leaned into him once more.

Mere seconds later, Sam's befuddled glance was fixed on the gun Vanessa was now pointing at him from three feet away. To make matters worse, it was his gun, taken from the jacket hanging on his chair as they were kissing. God he was an idiot. Again, he silently gave thanks that Dean was not here to see what an embarrassment of a day he was having. He raised his hands in a placating gesture.

Vanessa wasn't as calm as she seemed. That had been a hell of a kiss. The jury was still out on whether Sam Winchester was an okay guy or a jackass and his chess game was obviously rusty but there was no doubt anymore that he had a champion level mouth and knew what to do with it. She had a feeling he probably knew what to do with the rest of his totally distracting body. She mentally blew up the road her mind was going down, reminding herself to pick that fantasy back up later when she was alone.

She had accomplished two of her three objectives; mentally taking stock of the time she figured she should move on to the third. She continued to point the gun at Sam, looked down at it briefly and then back at him. "I admire your taste in firearms. I do not admire your taste in recreational activities." Her tone had assumed a bit of British prissiness, maybe as a counterweight to having smeared her mouth all over his a couple of moments ago.

"Stealing women is unacceptable. You should discontinue the practice." She waggled the gun at Sam in a way that made him very nervous. She continued, "How could I impress upon you the seriousness of your mistake? Oh yes," She cocked the gun. "I could shoot this." He jumped up although he knew he was just creating a larger target. Before he could make any kind of plea or move she threw her arm wide to the left and, without taking her eyes off his, shot it. The bullet buried itself in the wall. She tossed the gun on the table and crossed her arms. Rather irrelevantly, he wondered why he hadn't noticed before that she was a lefty.

"Lady, what the Hell?" he shouted. He looked over at the wall and then back at her in growing panic. "Wait a minute, wait a minute."

She just waved a little mockingly and said, "Buh bye." She disappeared and he was left looking at the protective sigil, now rendered useless by a gigantic bullet hole through its center. If she had meant to do that she wasn't a half bad shot.

Dean was gonna be pissed.

* * *

Dean was gonna be pissed. Lyria allowed herself to smirk a little since her back was still to him. The entire time she'd been in the park, part of her mind had been pressing against the bunker's protective shield so she knew the exact instant Van damaged the sigil. In that moment she sent out her will, snatched Van up and dropped her off back home for a well-deserved cup of tea and a little alone time.

Then Lyria sighed a little. This interlude was just about over. It needed to be over. But she couldn't say she was sorry she'd had this bit of a breather with her brother. Her smile widened to a grin; she certainly wouldn't say she was sorry it was ending with her on top and her big brothers punked. They really shouldn't underestimate girls the way they did.

Without turning around, Lyria ordered, "Name the best rock song with a cowboy theme."

Surprised at the abrupt change of topic, not to mention tone of their conversation, Dean replied, "What?"

Lyria turned around and walked toward him. "You heard me, what's the best rock song with a cowboy theme?" She acted as though it was the most innocuous question ever and as though they hadn't just gone through an emotionally grueling hour. But if she wanted to play it that way, he was right there with her. She had obviously inherited the Winchester tendency to avoid or cut short emotional scenes whenever possible. And this was, after all, a stock Winchester car game.

He scratched his chin and considered the question. "Well, I'd have to say, "Bon Jovi, Wanted Dead or Alive. You?" She appeared to give it some consideration. "'Wanted's' a good song but I'm a little surprised you didn't go with Styx, you know, Renegade. I'll concede to a tie on that one." She smiled at Dean; it was full of affection and ease and it curled up in Dean's heart like a gift. He smiled back and thought, "It's gonna be okay. We can work this out."

Lyria wasn't done. She walked up to him, turned around and resumed her place next to him, leaning her elbows against Baby. Slyly she added, "You have to agree Desperado is right up behind those two." Dean was outraged. "The Eagles? Are you kidding me? You said rock song, not lame pop garbage."

Lyria just laughed. "Who do you think you're talking to? You know you love it."

Dean grunted but didn't dare continue disputing the issue since he did love that song; it was a guilty pleasure and before today he'd thought a secret guilty pleasure.

It was his turn so he threw out, "Best rock song with 'Rock and Roll' in the title – and I'm taking I Love Rock and Roll off the table from the jump since you played that one last week. Pick another."

Lyria laughed. "There are a dozen great songs with that in the title, Seger has two all by himself." She frowned a little in thought. "I'll go with Rock and Roll Never Forgets and add It's Still Rock and Roll to Me as a guilty pleasure."

Dean nodded, conceding their worthiness but countered with, "Zep's Rock and Roll with Kiss's Rock and Roll All Night as a guilty pleasure." They grinned at each other.

They both looked back out over the playground and were quiet for a moment, but it was companionable rather than tense between them. Dean's cell phone rang and as it did, Lyria finally spoke. "Dean, you know that message you sent me this morning, when you called 'Checkmate' for stealing Van?" She turned and smiled amiably up at him. He smiled cockily back and nodded as the cell rang again. Lyria leaned up and kissed Dean on the cheek then whispered, "Not 'Checkmate' just 'Check' . . . . . this is 'Checkmate.'" She roared with laughter and the next moment was gone. Before he had any time to react, he was gone as well. Fortunately, the playing children and their minders were focused on their own business and never noticed the two people and one muscle car disappear into thin air.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 18**

Dean landed back in the common room of the bunker a second later. He looked quickly around then shouted, "Son of a bitch!" Disconcerted, Sam staggered back from the table, trying to hide the fact that he was both drunk and without the woman he was supposed to be guarding. But Dean took one look at him and knew they were screwed. "Son of a bitch!" he exclaimed again.

He looked around, noted the complete lack of a British hostage and sent an accusatory look Sam's way. "What the hell happened here?!"

Before Sam could think of an answer that didn't make him look like a complete idiot, the matter was taken out of his hands by Lyria's voice, singing.

"Sammy and Vanessa, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g." Lyria giggled and suddenly appeared, seated cross-legged on the table at the opposite end of the room from Sam and Dean. Her chin resting on her fists, her elbows on her thighs she had the appearance of an amused sprite. "Vanessa seduced Sam with her wiles." Affecting a wise expression, she continued. "Van has many wiles, as does Jace." She shook her head mock-sorrowfully and waggled her eyebrows. "I apparently have no wiles at all. Jace says that comes from being raised by men." Her tone turned educational. "Women have wiles and men have moves. I don't have any wiles but I do have some moves." Her smile brightened and turned a little naughty. "I used them to very good effect on Cass. Apparently, in our relationship, he's the girl. Isn't that fun?"

Dean looked at Sam. "I can see that, actually." He looked back at Lyria. "So, just out of curiosity, how'd you work the snatch back?"

Lyria shook her head at him and included Sam, who was weaving a bit, in her rather smug smile. With what she hoped was a sympathetic tone she asked, "Sam, would you like me to sober you up a bit? You're looking a little like you wanna puke." Sam swallowed painfully as Dean glared at him. "Yes, please." Lyria tilted her head and a warm and fragrant breeze came out of nowhere to caress Sam's cheek like a kiss. He suddenly felt much better, not just sober but with a sense of wellbeing he'd not often experienced. Lyria looked at him with the same affection and ease she'd gifted Dean with in the park and, like Dean, he felt it all the way through his being.

Dean ignored the younger sibling bonding moment and repeated, "How'd you work it, getting your friend out of here?"

Lyria shrugged. "By using what my older brothers taught me, of course." She jumped to the floor, turned to them and stuck her thumbs in the front pockets of her jeans. She waggled her right arm. "Right arm equals hours." She wagged the left. "Left arm, minutes." She tapped two fingers on her right hand against her thigh. "Two fingers . . ."

"Means to make your move in two hours." Sam finished for her. He smacked his forehead. "It was all right there." He turned to Dean. "Her image popped in and she apologized to Vanessa saying that it was her fault 'that sigil'" he waved at the wall as Lyria had done, "kept her from rescuing Vanessa, telling her that in two hours' time she should damage the sigil and be prepared to be rescued." Sam sank back in a chair. It was barely noon and he was exhausted. He'd rather take on a vampire nest alone than go through this kind of morning again.

Lyria shrugged, mock sheepishly. She was rather proud of herself and she thought she was entitled. In many ways it had been a difficult day and she hoped if they thought of her at some time in the future they would think she'd been clever, like they were.

Dean was not done picking at this, though. He frowned down at Sam. "We'll get back to you in a little while since you need to explain to me how you managed to get shit-faced and let that English girl get to the sigil in the first place. But that can wait." He looked back at Lyria, who had resumed her place atop the table at the opposite end of the room and said mildly, "So you jacked our moves, the ones we (air quotes) 'taught you'. Well done, I guess." After a pause, "I guess this also means you have no intention of hearing us out on this whole 'keep your distance' bullshit? Right?" Lyria didn't respond, just raised an eyebrow at him in challenge. He wished he didn't admire her stubbornness; it felt a little self-aggrandizing for some reason.

Dean abruptly said, "I need a cup of coffee." He looked at Sam, who nodded gratefully. He looked at Lyria and she shook her head. He ordered, "Don't leave. I'll be right back," and left the room.

Lyria looked mockingly at Dean as he departed the room and said to Sam, "When we were in the park, Dean tried to play the 'I'm the oldest so I'm always right' card. How do you put up with that?" Sam rolled his eyes. "Mostly by paying no attention. He does that a couple of times a year."

They fell silent and before each could think of something else to say, Dean returned with two cups of coffee. He set one down in front of Sam, pulled out the chair Vanessa had used to kick Sam's ass at chess, sat down, pushed the board away and took a drink of his coffee. He looked down the table at Lyria and narrowed his eyes at her thoughtfully.

"There's a lot we need to talk about." Lyria raised her eyebrows enquiringly at that. Dean ignored her. "But before we get to that there's something I want to know. It's not that it's important or anything; it's just buggin' me."

Lyria was a little alarmed at the turn of the conversation but before she could say anything, Dean continued. "What's with the tables?" He saw her confusion and elaborated. "You never sit in a chair. I've seen you sitting on the floor or leaning on Baby but most of the time you're perching on a table." He gestured toward her. "Like you're doing right now." He paused. "So, what's up with that?"

Lyria's response was unexpected. Her face was suddenly suffused with tenderness and the smile that grew there was brilliant with beautiful memory. Sam and Dean just sat there, both stunned and warmed by the glow she had about her. The brothers relaxed into a state of utter comfort. They didn't even recognize the feeling; they'd never felt it before.

Lyria smiled at them a little ruefully, thinking about how the oddest things turned out to be important. Finally, she responded to Dean's query. "Actually, it's kind of a nice story," she began a little shyly. "I can tell you if you like."

It was Sam who answered. He took a sip of his coffee without taking his eyes from hers and said, "We would like to hear anything you'd like to tell us."

Lyria looked off into the distance of her mind and organized her thoughts. "When I was very small, being connected to le père" she glanced at them, "Dad, was . . . ." here she seemed to be searching for the right word; the one she settled on was, "chaotic." She paused then started speaking again, after a while falling into a story-telling rhythm.

"I saw and heard all that he experienced and there were some horrific images I had no context for that frightened me very much, especially when I was le enfant, a baby. Too, his feelings, I understand now, tended toward the extreme. Anger, terror, bitterness and despair were the primary ones he cycled through over and over again. In the absence of a dangerous situation to focus on he was almost always feeling a certain amount of irritation, like a low grade fever." She smiled gently in memory although the brothers were befuddled as to why. But they were afraid to interrupt and spoil her confiding mood so they stayed silent and waited for her to continue. She looked down at her oval locket and began running the long chain through her fingers as she talked.

"It was hard when I was une petite fille to sort through it all, to so often feel his fear or his anger, but it was my normal. Except . . . . Every once in a while there'd be an entirely different facet to him, a feeling and vision completely opposite to 'our' usual experience. I would get this sense of overwhelming love and peace from him, almost a feeling of grace." She looked up at Sam and Dean again. "After a while, I hoped for it, waited for it because it was like being wrapped in a blanket of love, like being . . . cherished." She laughed and grew pink, embarrassed at the flowery language. "Whenever this feeling would come over le père it was tied to a specific image." With another embarrassed glance she admitted, "It was quite a long time before I realized it was a photograph he was looking at." She opened her oval locket and a translucent page floated out. She grasped it and it became a solid Polaroid photograph. She looked down at it with a tender smile for a moment then slid it down the table toward the brothers. Sam picked it up and he and Dean looked at it together.

Sam looked at Dean. "Do you recognize this?" Dean nodded, lost in its memory. "Yeah, Dad carried it in his wallet for years. He lost it on a hunt about five years before he died." Dean continued to look at the picture, struck by how sad it made him feel, decades later. It was a simple, amateur composition, taken long before smartphone photography and selfie mania ran through the culture. The white banded Polaroid showed a small table, a baby's changing table he now realized, with a baby in a little outfit laying on the top, caught in an instant of waving his tiny fists and kicking his legs. Next to the table, with his arm hooked around one of the table legs and a wide, toothy grin aimed up at the camera was a pint-sized, dark-haired boy of around four years old. It was a charming but completely unremarkable photograph. Dean shoved it back toward Lyria and looked over at Sam. "It's you and me. Dad took it a month or so before Mom died." There was nothing more to be said about it.

Lyria nodded. "Yes. That seems obvious now but then all I knew is that when this image appeared my father felt happy and at peace and so did I." She quirked an eyebrow at Sam. "I'm not sure when I began to associate that feeling with the little table but eventually I would think about how in the image was this baby and I was a baby and the other baby had a table. I thought I should have one too. So I made one. It was the first object I ever created." She smiled at Sam and Dean as though that was the most natural thing ever, then her forehead wrinkled. "I guess I made gravity at the same time although I didn't realize it. Oh," she looked at Sam seriously. "I also copied your little outfit. So, I had clothes for the first time." Sam didn't know why he was embarrassed. Dean aimed a wicked grin at him. "Hear that Sam? Sister copied your onesie." He laughed loudly to push away the image of a little baby all alone finding a bit of comfort in a table and a baby outfit.

"So, that's really all there is to it. I made a table and as I got older the tables got bigger. Of course I eventually made quite a lot of different kinds of furniture but I do confess I have always felt most comfortable, most at ease, sitting on a table."

She grinned impishly. "It took Poppy a while to get used to it. Now he always keeps the kitchen counters and one end of any table clear and we have all kinds of tables in our home. We also have perfectly nice sofas and chairs but they're mostly for Poppy and my sisters." She took the picture Dean had slid back to her, looked at it fondly for a second, then popped it back into her locket and snapped it shut.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 19**

The three were silent for a few moments, thinking about the father they had in common and the childhoods throughout which he had been a loving but temperamental giant. Lyria shook it off first and, with the air of someone with places to be jumped from the table and opened her mouth to say good-bye. Sam, seeing her intention, sought to extend her visit until he and Dean could figure out a way to change her mind about the future.

"Hey, is anyone hungry? I could really use some lunch. It feels like it's already been a really long day." He grinned at Lyria and Dean a little self-consciously but hopefully. "I think we have some leftovers in the refrigerator, or I could go get us something." He aimed his most guileless look at his little sister and asked, "You have time for a meal, right? This is the first time just the three of us have been together, just us." Looking at Dean, "We'd really like it if you could stay, just for a little while."

Dean picked up his cue. "An hour or so won't change the fate of the universe, will it?" And then adding what he thought would be the kicker, "I think it's what Dad would have wanted."

Up to that moment, Lyria's face had worn a look comprised of equal parts reluctance and shy pleasure. At Dean's words that look disappeared to be replaced with one of sardonic impatience. "Really? First the older brother card, now the 'it's what Dad would have wanted' card? What kind of a lame ass do you think I am?" She frowned at him. "Don't answer that." She turned to Sam. "Thank you for the invitation; I am grateful to accept." She grinned. "But what's the point in having a supernatural sister if you can't get a decent lunch out of her?" She waved her right arm from left to right, spanning the length of the table. There were now three meals set there, one each where Sam and Dean had been sitting and one across from Sam. Dean and Sam looked a little suspiciously at the meals. Dean's was a burger and fries, Sam's some kind of pasta dish. Dean opened his mouth but before he could get the question out Lyria offered, "From a little diner outside Canton I know you enjoy" then to Sam, "the linguini is from that café in Santa Clara." Lyria sat down in the third seat and picked up the spoon next to the bright blue bowl set before her as Sam and Dean remained standing, just looking at her.

Sam shrugged and walked back around the table to his seat. Dean; however, leaned over Lyria and picked up her bowl, and the plate of fries that had just appeared next to it. She said, "Hey!" but he ignored her, walked down to the end of the table, set the bowl and plate in the middle, came back and took her spoon out of her hand as she just stared at him. He picked up the napkin sitting there as well, walked back down to the dishes and laid them down to create a place setting in the middle of the table. He then went down to the other end, sat down and picked up his loaded bacon cheeseburger. He waved it at her. "No reason you shouldn't be comfortable." Then he shrugged as well and, looking admiringly at his burger, took a bite. He grinned around his full mouth and mumbled, "Good burger."

Lyria just sat there for a moment as Dean kept eating and Sam, after a quick grin in her direction, dug in. Then she got up, jumped up on the table backward and crossed her legs under her before sliding around to face her food. She picked up her spoon and bowl and took a bite, then munched contentedly, smiling around her lunch at her two beautiful brothers. It was like a hundred simple daydreams she'd had through the years. When Juno peeked out from inside her vest, she set her down on the table and gave her a French fry to bat around.

Dean wiped his mouth and, seeking to keep the conversation light for the time being said, "So what're you having with your fries?"

Lyria swallowed, smiled and said, "My favorite. Poppy's famous mac and cheese topped with potato chips." She crunched contentedly then continued. "Jace was the one who taught me to add the potato chips. She has very exotic tastes." She nodded wisely. "Now it's both creamy and crunchy. The best of both worlds." She grinned, so completely happy in an absolutely childlike way she made Dean feel a couple hundred years old. And they were just supposed to let her go off on her own? Dean didn't think so.

Before Dean could think of a segue to talking about something more substantial, Sam entered the conversation. "So you know I went to Stanford, thought about being a lawyer. Did you ever think about some other kind of life, you know, aside from this whole 'save the world' thing?" He smiled casually down at her and took another bite of linguini, a part of him remembering fondly a long spring afternoon drive to Santa Clara with Jess, the other laser focused on the newest member of the family.

Lyria crunched her lunch while looking thoughtful. "Actually, when I was around seven I wanted to be a mermaid . . . and solve crimes." She smiled nostalgically.

Sam and Dean both smiled in response and Dean asked, "So which appealed more? Mermaid or crime solver?"

Lyria looked at Dean in confusion, looked at Sam and saw only an expression of interested inquiry. "I don't understand the question. I wanted to be a mermaid and solve crimes. You know, like pirate crimes." She shook her head sorrowfully at Dean. "Dean, no one seems to be looking into the pirate crimes at all." She widened her eyes and blinked at him several times. Dean didn't know how to respond to that and while he was trying to figure it out Lyria burst out laughing. "You should see the expression on your face."

Dean frowned at her, swiped the napkin across his face, picked up a couple of fries and tossed them in his mouth, secretly thrilled that she was relaxing and unbelievably charmed at the thought of a mermaid crime fighter. Sam laughed and Lyria smiled, Dean maintained a scowl because it seemed to amuse Lyria. The last of the ice broken, they spent the next twenty minutes talking in a light-hearted fashion about childhood dreams and fantasies, Dean's of being a womanizing rock star, Sam's as an international soccer phenomenon.

It was neither Sam nor Dean who broke the light nature of the conversation. It was Lyria. Sensing an opportunity in their desire to keep her around, she decided to take a whack at healing one of their most recent wounds. Taking on the task would serve two purposes. She would hopefully give them the opportunity to turn a painful corner and she would definitely weaken their desire to have anything to do with her. She grieved the need to destroy the mood of their impromptu feast but she was no stranger to taking difficult roads.

So Lyria ate her last bit of mac and cheese, delicately wiped her mouth with her napkin and consigned her dishes into oblivion with another wave of her hand. She picked up Juno, rubbed a hand across her ginger fur and popped her back inside her vest.

Sam and Dean were still finishing up their meals when Lyria said, twirling her dragonfly necklace, "I want to talk about how you're feeling about Charlie."

Dean's mood shifted in an instant and Sam pushed his mostly empty plate away as though suddenly a little queasy. Dean snapped, "You don't know anything about what I'm feeling and I don't want to talk about it." Simultaneously, Sam asked, hoarsely, "How is Charlie; do you know?"

Dean stood up so abruptly he knocked over his chair, stalked a little ways from the table, picked up a bottle of whiskey and poured himself a drink. Lyria looked down at her hands, linked them and then looked back up at Dean's back with an expression both sad and pitying. Her voice was soft and calm. "Charlie was a warrior. She was brave and ingenious. She helped you vanquish the Leviathan, fought the Jinn, saved the Land of Oz and," this with a slight, impish smile, "made out with a fairy." A few steps away, Dean made a sound but didn't turn around as he threw back the medicinal whiskey – then refilled his glass. Sam was motionless and expressionless but for deep grooves between his brows.

"She was so clever, she was able to find The Book of the Dead and decode the Codex needed to learn the spell to release you from the Mark of Cain."

Without turning around, Dean threw at the table, "Yes, and for her trouble she's dead. We killed her." Sam flinched.

Lyria's voice was firm as she contradicted him. "I'm sorry Dean, but as comforting as it might be to tell yourself that, it's just not true. Charlie was killed by a member of the Frankenstein family looking for the book." Then, musingly, "You know, she might have escaped, but she used the scant seconds she had to send a message with the answer to the decoding problem. That's what gave the Frankenstein assassin the time to find and kill her." Sam dropped his head in his hands, Dean was motionless.

Lyria appeared unaffected by the desperate tension in the room and seemed to be considering how to proceed when Sam looked up from his hands. His eyes glittered with tears as he asked her what point she was trying to make.

Lyria returned to her original statement. "Charlie was a warrior." Pause. "Warriors die. Despite the perverse enjoyment each of you takes in blaming yourself and each other for her death, neither of you caused it. But what has happened since then, that you're responsible for." Her voice was imbued with steel and its resonance, along with a momentary glow to her eyes, reminded Sam of several implacable angels he had crossed paths with in the past.

She looked at Sam. "Imagine how it would break Charlie's heart if she knew the two men she considered brothers were using her death as an excuse to tear at each other. Imagine," and as Dean finally turned back around to look at her she turned a disapproving grimace in his direction, "how she would feel at knowing they made her into nothing, stripping her of everything remarkable about her and reducing her to nothing more than another 'vic' they failed to save. Congratulations, guys. In death you've managed to turn the savior of Oz into a pathetic child." Lyria paused and gentled her voice.

"She wasn't yours to save. She wasn't bullied, she wasn't forced. She made choices, the hard choices that heroes make, and an accumulation of those choices led to her death. You dishonor her when you act as though her death was some tragic misadventure you should have been able to stop. She had the right to die for you, for either or both of you even as you would have died for her. That's family."

Dean suddenly whipped his glass at the far wall. It sailed uncomfortably close to Lyria's head but she neither moved nor made a sound as it shattered, adding a whiskey stain to the bullet hole in the sigil there.

Sam stood up and hissed, "Dean, for God's sake!"

Lyria turned around and nodded at the soaked wall then turned back to look at Sam and Dean, who was now gasping with familiar feelings of pain and anger he had no way to exorcise.

With a twisted smile she said, "Well, once I'm gone you can repair it so I'll never be able to show up and scold you again."

Neither Sam nor Dean dignified that with a response but simultaneously Sam picked up the gun Vanessa had earlier that day dropped on the table and Dean grabbed the one at his back and in a synchronous movement they obliterated the sigil with two more shots. They then each threw a disgusted look at Lyria, and tossed the guns on the table. Sam said, "It's going to take more than a scold in this family to get yourself kicked out. You should know that. We do this kind of thing on Saturday nights just for fun."

Astonishingly, Lyria grinned at Sam. "I've been meaning to ask you. How does it feel to no longer be the family freak?"

Sam's laugh further broke the tension. "It feels even better than no longer being the baby of the family."

Lyria's smile turned soft and she sent it Dean's way as he fell back in his chair and covered his face with his hands. "You need to know, Charlie is fine, better than fine. She's with her family now and that's all she really ever wanted." The smile fell away. "But she knows what she did and she's relying on you to make it right."

Dean looked up at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Lyria walked up to Dean and just looked him in the eye, sad but relentless. Then she looked over at Sam. She included both of them when she said, "To paraphrase a very smart man, 'Nobody cares that you're broken, guys. Clean up your mess.' Between what was let loose and Rowena, you have some serious mopping up to do." She crossed her arms and looked sternly at the brothers. "Remember the family business? 'Saving people, hunting things'? You need to get back to it. And you're not going to be able to until you forgive each other and yourselves. So get it done already. Beat the shit out of each other and move on. It's the Winchester way."

Sam gave Dean a 'get it together' look and took his seat. He hoped Dean would be able to pick up on the play because they'd just got the opening they needed. He cleared his throat, trying not to use the voice that so annoyed Lyria. "That's right, it's the family business. We're in it together. We need to work together. Tell us what your mission is. Let us help you. Dean and I don't accept this hands off policy of yours." He tried to keep his demeanor casual and conversational but it apparently didn't work.

Lyria's eyebrows went up and for the first time Sam saw a resemblance to Arene. "Your acceptance is not required. We will not be working together. Think of us as operating separate franchises." She smirked a little at the end. Then the smile fell off her face and her tone became firm, almost hard.

"Brother, sister, father, family, these are among the most powerful words in the human world. You need to remember I am not human and although you are my family, I am not part of yours, not in any meaningful way. I'm just a monster you've happened to meet that shares your DNA, who you didn't even know existed a week ago. All told we haven't even spent a day in each other's company.

I understand where you're coming from, I really do, not only do I look like a young girl, but physically, at least, I'm all Winchester, a motley compilation of your and le père's features." She grinned momentarily then looked down dismissively at her bosom. "It would have been nice to at least get Maman's boobs." She shook her head ruefully. "Apparently the Winchester women are not particularly amply endowed. Although," she said with some satisfaction. "Crowley found them appealing enough and Cass always seemed very fond of them."

Sam and Dean looked at each other in speechless discomfort, not knowing how to proceed from there. Lyria breezily ignored them. She had a point to make and, knowing her brothers, needed to find an extremely simple way to make it.

"I must insist you not get attached to me as you did Charlie. If we never see each other again that should be easy, the memory of this time and our brief intersection will fade soon enough."

Dean was glad to find a new locus for his anger, being angry at himself or Sam had been getting old. He was not getting jerked around by Miss Supernatural Half-Pint. "What makes you think we'd get attached anyway?" He asked contrarily.

She just blinked at him uncomprehendingly for a moment. "Well of course you would get attached. I have it on good authority that I'm quite adorable."

"Whose authority might that be?" Dean sneered. "At this moment I can't imagine you being anything but a complete aggravation."

Lyria's eyes sparked with irritation. "Fine. Then we're in agreement. I'll go now."

Dean spoke. He was dead calm and his tone was familiar to those who knew him as his, 'no more screwing around' attitude. "You don't get to tell us how to feel or who is family to us. You know better. And by the way I know what this really is. We've done the 'stay away for his own good' routine. It doesn't work. It never works. Maybe it wasn't our job to protect Charlie." The bitter tenor of his voice belied his words, "if so, then it also isn't your job to protect us. That's what this is about, right?"

Lyria sighed. Her quick and easy post-lunch escape plan had been a fantasy. On some level she'd known that this kind of gut it out talk was going to be necessary from the moment they knew who she was. She hoped she would be able to make them understand. Her hopes weren't high. Her brothers were obnoxiously stubborn. She loved that about them. She loved that about herself.

"Poppy is fond of saying that the thing that keeps him up at night is knowing he's raising an extremely powerful young girl" she paused, and then smiling wryly, "who happens to have Dean Winchester's temper."

"Yikes" said Dean. "Oh, no." said Sam at the same time. "Precisely." Lyria nodded. "It's not just about protecting you. That is my joyful responsibility." Dean opened his mouth to object but she raised a hand to stop him from interrupting. "Deal with it. I'm very powerful; more powerful than any being you have met except for Uncle Ian so even if you are the oldest," eye roll, "mine is the responsibility for the safety and wellbeing of this family. Also, I promised our father I would take care of you; that promise is sacred to me."

She started again. "It's not just about protecting you. It's about protecting everyone from me." She wandered around the room, playing with her trio of necklaces. Sam and Dean frowned at each other but waited for her to explain. "I have had years of watching you and père, years to learn the seductions and dangers of power and," here she gave her brothers a very frank look, "what happens when power is misused. I learned early that the first obligation of power is restraint." Dean nodded approval and she felt a little better.

"You are dear to me. But I'm not just concerned about you being harmed or killed because of who you are to me, I'm obligated to be concerned about what I might do, how I might react if that were to happen." There was a dawning awareness now on their faces and Lyria nodded matter-of-factly. "Exactly. With an eyebrow I can drop a continent into the sea." Sam swallowed a little nervously. "Should you be harmed I'm not sure I could remember my promises and responsibilities so I have to take you off the board. I know you don't like it. I'd be astonished if you did. I know how you feel about anyone else doing the driving. That's why I was trying to keep you in the dark about who I really am. Now I have to rely on your understanding and, to be honest, I don't have high hopes for that." She shook her head and smiled a little mockingly. "You've got the courage of a dozen men but your comprehension skills can, at times, be a little marginal." Lyria absentmindedly resumed her place sitting on the table and clasped her hands in her lap, waiting on their response.

She didn't wait long and she wasn't surprised Dean was the one who jumped in with objections. "You can't control us or what we do and you're not responsible for what jobs we take, even if the job we take turns out to be you. I thought you were Team Free Will."

Lyria tilted her head in agreement but said, "'A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by philosophers, statesmen and divines.'" Sam nodded thoughtfully but Dean said impatiently, "What the Hell is that supposed to mean?"

Lyria was not inclined to be patient at this point. "I think you know exactly what Emerson was talking about Dean because we both know you're not as 'aw shucks' as you like everyone to think you are. It means that between Lucifer, Arene and the Winchesters I've learned ruthlessness at the feet of masters and just because in general I believe in the principle of free will doesn't mean I won't put that aside if necessary. It's not like I'm planning to put you in a coma for the duration." She smiled warningly, "at least not yet." Her smile became grim. "Or entirely wiping your memory of any knowledge of me." She held Dean's furious gaze for a moment before he dropped his eyes to the table. It was a bit of a sucker punch but bringing up Lisa and Ben at least had shut him up for the moment.

It was Sam's turn. "I get it, I do. In your place I'd probably feel the same way. But if the object is to protect us couldn't you achieve the same goal keeping us close as setting us at a distance? After all, as powerful as you are it seems like the safest place we could be is standing right next to you. It's not as if you're against allies; you have Benny, Vanessa and Jace, probably others."

Lyria gave Sam the point on that. "You have a point. But there is a crucial difference between you. Poppy is my mentor and both Jace and Van have much wisdom and insight they share with me. I take their counsel and rarely set my will against theirs. But when I say 'drop and roll' they drop and roll." Her voice was flint hard. "They accept me, absolutely, as their leader. Because they do, I can keep them safe."

Sam saw the problem. "You don't think you can count on Dean or me for that kind of compliance."

Lyria laughed heartily for a long moment. "Thanks, I needed that." She sobered. "Are you bat crap crazy? Of course I can't rely on you to play ball. You hardly ever let each other take the lead or do what each other says and you've been together forever. Let's not entertain absurdities here. I would spend half my days wondering what you were doing behind my back." Her smile mocked him. "Who has that kind of time?"

Dean, already smarting from the allusion to Ben and Lisa was angry at the inexorable logic of Lyria's argument. No one wanted to be out reasoned by a twenty year old girl. His only remaining play was increasingly loud, illogical insistence. "So, what you're saying is that you're keeping us away for our own good, the good of the planet and because you can't trust us? You haven't even given us a shot. How is that fair?!"

Suddenly, the genial expression dropped from Lyria's face, replaced with a stunning look of icy cynicism. For the first time, Dean saw her fully as a supernatural being. "What's wrong with you?" She asked. "Fair is a place you take pigs to win blue ribbons. It has nothing to do with life." She paused and with a little less bite and a small, sad smile said, "Life is pain, anyone who says different is selling something." She looked a dare at Dean.

He didn't back down. "Point taken, Buttercup. But you keep saying you know us so you must know that we do whatever it takes to get the job done, even if it doesn't come naturally to us. You need to include us."

Lyria was suddenly tired and feeling like it was time to go. They were on opposite sides of this reality as she had known they would be. She didn't have time for futile argument. And there was a tiny part of her terribly distressed at disappointing them, as well as another tiny part that really wanted to bring them along with her. Squelching those bits was using up what emotional energy she had left today.

Sam could sense they were losing her and he was determined that, at the very least, they would understand more about her 'mission' before she left. He got up from the table and went to a little refrigerator Dean had recently installed in the room so as to never be too far from a bottle of beer. Sam kept some bottled water in there as well. He took out two bottles of water and one of beer. He brought the beer to Dean then walked over to Lyria and handed her one of the bottles of water with what he hoped was an accepting and brotherly look on his face. He sat back down and said, "Let's say we understand your position," at this Sam heard, and ignored, a strangled sound behind him from Dean. "You can leave here and keep us from finding you and we can't stop it so all the cards are with you. But before you do, please, please just explain this mission of yours. We'd really like to understand and it can't harm you, can it?"

Lyria knew her brother was manipulating her but she could also tell he genuinely needed to understand. For Sam, understanding would always be important; it was one of the qualities she loved most in him. Sadly, it reminded her of the biggest reason for keeping her distance all along. She sighed. This was a kind of pain she was unaccustomed to and it was a sadder sort than she'd felt before. She twisted the top off the bottle of water and drank, stalling until she could give them the information they needed, hopefully without forcing on them the pain she felt.

Sam thought she was ignoring him but then with a far off look she began speaking. "I used to imagine what it would be like if you found out about me." She looked a little whimsically at Dean. "Here's how the best case scenario always went in my head." Using Dean's actual voice she said, "Sammy, she's a monster. Her granddaddy is the demonic douche nozzle who rode your ass to Hell and scrambled your custard! Her mother is some Hell bitch who roofied Dad and jacked his sperm! How do we not kill her just on principle?" Sam and Dean laughed; it was dead on, not just the voice, but the sentiment and the style. Smiling back at them, Lyria spoke again, this time with Sam's voice. "Dean, slow your roll. As far as we know, she hasn't actually harmed anyone. Let's just watch her and see what she does. We can always gank her later." From her perch at the end of the table Lyria did a little bow from the waist up.

Lyria's impressions were so amusing it took a couple of seconds for what she had actually said to sink in. Then Sam asked, "Your best case scenario was that we would hate you and want to kill you? Why?"

Lyria smiled down at the two of them, determined to finish it but wanting just one more picture of them to carry around in her heart. She led with that heart now, wanting, at the last, to leave them with a memory of being loved and appreciated.

"You are so loved; you have no idea. So much of what is good in me, so much of what I bring to my mission I have from you, from your greatness." She turned to Dean, who was looking at her with astonishment, instinctively rejecting her words. But Lyria was now glowing from within with every sentiment and insight she was determined to reveal to them. "Your unwavering commitment to protect everyone, to save everyone, your willingness to assume responsibility you could so easily walk away from awes me." Looking in his eyes and seeing the shame there she said, "I know everything you have ever done. Everything. It doesn't change how I feel at all. To me, you are a great man."

She turned to Sam. "As are you. Your endless empathy for the wounded and despairing was one of the great revelations of my life, brother. To care so much, year after year despite the pain it brings you is a state of grace. Your heart is a wonder to me."

She looked at both of them. "There is one quality you both have which has caused me endless exasperation." She shook her head at them. "You live within your loss." They looked at each other, uncomprehending. "You rarely appreciate what is before you because you exist in a continuous state of mourning for what is gone, that is until you suffer another loss and then the cycle starts anew." She actually rolled her eyes.

"It's too new to you to mean anything but I have thought of myself as your sister all of my life and the only thing I really wanted for myself," a tear slid down Lyria's cheek, "was not to be just another loss for you."

Sam, a feeling of dread creeping up the back of his skull, asked, "Lyria, what are you trying to say?" Dean just looked at her, enraged but not quite knowing why.

Not able to bear Dean's rage she looked sadly at Sam. "What I'm trying to say, Sam, is that I'm just the redshirt."

* * *

 **CHAPTER 20**

Sam put his hand out, rejecting the bald statement and snapped, "Don't even say such a thing. What's wrong with you?!" He jumped up from his chair and paced away and back, glaring at Lyria in denial.

Dean pounded his beer on the table. "Hey, emo boy. Why are we talking about football and why are you so upset?!"

Lyria and Sam turned to Dean and with identical expressions said, "Seriously?"

Lyria took pity on Sam, who was having a hard time navigating the pathos and accidental hilarity of Dean's lack of understanding, especially since he rarely missed a pop culture reference, let alone a sci-fi one. She smiled at Dean and said, "It's not a football reference it's a Star Trek one. You know, the redshirt, the security guy in the first few scenes whose death sets up the story arc." Working hard to keep her tone even and unemotional she added, "That's what I am; that's what I was hoping you wouldn't need to know. I'm a plot device, just a mechanism to move the story forward, your story forward." She shrugged a little. To Dean and Sam the gesture bordered on the obscene.

When Sam found coherence he bit out, "That's completely ridiculous! You're a person, not a mechanism."

Lyria just looked steadily at Sam and then at Dean. "You need to understand. My mission, my purpose from the very first has been very specific. My job is to die. To die in the right place at the right time in the right way and for the right reason." She smiled at them a little whimsically. "I'm a single use supernatural being, kind of like a paranormal Kleenex."

Seeing their twin glares she sobered and continued. "I have this year to learn and understand what I need to about how to make the penance but it must be made by the end of my year here."

Dean spoke. "What penance? How can you need to be penitent? If you were talking about me or Sam I would get it. But what could you possibly have to do penance for? You're not making any sense."

"It makes perfect sense if you remember who my grandfather is? Remember Satan?" She waggled her fingers at her brothers, trying to lighten the mood again. Suddenly, she was almost unbearably weary. She hoped neither of them would think to say the word 'nap' 'cause if one of them did she'd be out like a light for hours.

She heaved out a sigh and prepared to keep talking, to talk as long as it took to get through to them now that she'd started. "Everyone believes Lucifer's sin was disobedience, that he was cast down for defying God. That's not actually true." She smiled slightly. "After all, my Cass is pretty often disobedient and he was never cast out. Lucifer's sin was selfishness. He set himself above humans; in his arrogance he believed he was more important and of more value than they. That was his sin."

Lyria's smile grew very tender. "Maman has spent her entire existence in service to humans, setting herself below them, each hour of each day, millennia after millennia tending to them in penance for her father's sin. It is for me to finish the penance because I'm the only one who can." Lyria shifted slightly in her place on the table, stretched out her legs then tucked them once more under her and spread her hands, palms up as though asking for Sam and Dean's understanding.

Dean had had enough. "This is ridiculous. You're not responsible for Lucifer or for Arene. You might be part angel but you're also part human and you have just as much right to live as anyone. No one can make you do this and we'll help you find another way. We're good at this. Let us help you."

Dean was reacting just as she'd feared he would, but she couldn't help but love him for it. She was just going to have to keep trying. "Dean, no one is making me do anything. I'm Team Free Will, remember? I could walk away at any time. That's the whole point. The sacrifice must be made freely. Each morning I'm asked the question, each morning I give my answer and the mission continues."

Sam interjected, "What question, what answer and who is asking?"

Lyria replied, "I'm asked if I will make the sacrifice. Every morning God comes to ask the question and I say yes."

"And if you say 'no'?" Sam prompted.

Lyria shrugged. "Nothing, I suspect. If I say 'no' it ends and I'm just an immortal twiddling my thumbs throughout time."

Dean clapped his hands. "Good, we have a plan. I like this plan. You say 'no' and we'll be done with the whole damn thing." He sent Lyria a flint-like glare that dared her to continue on. His problem was that Lyria was so much like him she not only saw it coming but loved to take a dare.

"Ha ha. Not happening." She sighed. "Please, Dean, please try to understand. I am the third. I am the only one who can fix things, tilt the balance back in favor of the humans. I need to do this."

Sam spoke up. "You're the third? I understand that in biblical lore the number three is very powerful. But what does it mean that you're the third?"

Lyria was grateful that someone was trying to understand. "It means two things actually." She clarified. "Grandpère was first and although fallen was from Heaven. Maman was second, she is of Heaven and Hell and I am the third, Heaven, Hell . . . " " . . . and Earth" Sam finished for her.

Lyria nodded. "Oui. I am the third and I am of the three, the three realms." She looked at Dean and begged him with her eyes to understand. "Lucifer set into motion the whole arc of your lives, yours and père's. You stopped the Apocalypse but even so everything is," she tilted her palms back and forth, "out of kilter. The planet is for the humans. The angels should be helping you and the demons should be, for the most part, down below." She took a breath. "I can't create a paradise for you, not that you'd want it," she added with a wry smile. "Your world is designed for conflict and struggle. But I believe I can heal your world just enough to tilt the balance back in your direction." She smiled. "Maybe then you will be able to spend some of your time thinking about something besides the next horrible crisis. There will always be monsters and ghosts but maybe I can make it so everything's not so desperate that you can't have families, be Men of Letters. You've earned a life." She smiled through a sudden sheen of tears. "Let me give this to you."

Dean was blazingly angry. "Bullshit! Do you really think Sam and I want a cushier life at your expense? Do you think so little of us? You're twenty for god's sake. You don't check out for us; if anything we should be the ones to go. But I vote no one goes. You know us, you know how we work. We can find another way. Let's do that. Let's find another way.

Lyria was almost there. This would be the hardest for them but when it was done she could leave knowing they had everything they needed to understand how important it was for her to complete her mission, no matter what she had to do to keep them alive while she did it.

"Please believe me when I say that I cannot do what you wish. I cannot do it because I am too much like you." She almost smiled at their twin looks of frustrated incomprehension but this was too serious and she was too raw by this time to smile. She aimed this mostly at Dean, who could be harsh. "I know you don't think much of my Maman but to me she is a wondrous being. In all the millennia since she was born she has only had two real choices, one at her birth and one twenty years ago. Each time she had a decision to make she made it in favor of the humans, she helped you even though it meant unending torment for her."

She just looked at Dean, her eyes swimming. "She has been tortured for so long she doesn't even know that's what it is." She looked at Sam. "Until I came along there was no one at all who had ever loved her, ever cared about her even a little bit. I know you have known difficult times in your life but can you imagine an existence in which you matter to not one other being, endlessly paying for something you had no hand in?"

She absently dashed a couple of stray tears from her face. "She submitted when God called on her even though the old bastard never helped her, not once." She looked over at Dean again. "She's an angel who has never even been to Heaven. How messed up is that?" She sniffed and clasped her hands together tightly, trying desperately to keep it together. Dean and Sam let her finish it even though each would have given just about anything to stop the scalding words coming out of her mouth. With each sentence their hope of stopping her from her insane course grew fainter.

Lyria took a breath and grew calm. The tears disappeared and her face and voice assumed an assurance and certainty much more frightening than tears. It was as though all emotion had blown through her, leaving only her absolute faith in her path.

"I am a Winchester and Winchesters take care of family. There's a chance, not a great chance but a chance, that if I complete my mission ma mère will be healed, will be able to go home." She looked at them defiantly, her cheeks streaked with tears but her eyes now dry and steady and resolute, her posture straight and uncompromising. "If it were your Maman you would do the same. I know this. You cannot ask me to abandon my course when you would not if you were in my place."

Sam rubbed his stinging eyes. "Just before you came to Earth you told her you loved her and that if you did your job maybe someday she would understand. This is what you meant."

Lyria just smiled and nodded. She was all talked out. Well, almost.

"Sam, do you remember our World Philosophies class sophomore year?"

Sam looked at her, startled. "I remember my World Philosophies class. You would have been, what, six?" She twinkled a little at him but he couldn't find a smile for her.

"About that, yes. I enjoyed it very much, especially the part about dyadic choices. So here's one for you to ponder when you have the time." She smiled sweetly at him. "If you can only chose one, is it better to love or be loved?" She held her gaze steady, continuing to smile. "I know the answer. Deep down, you know it too." He just looked at her for a second, his eyes shiny, then looked away.

"I've gotta go now. We won't see each other again. I'm gonna Frank Sinatra this bitch and that's the last I'm saying on this topic." Her voice was firm, almost hard. "Tell Cass . . ." She paused to search for the words. ". . . Tell Cass each cell dispersed to the heavens at the end will remember him, and be happy." Sam and Dean just looked at her in stony silence. She sighed and prepared to leave. Dean put up a hand to stop her.

"Speaking of Cass, he gave me something to give to you." He took a glowing stone out of his pocket and tossed it to her. She caught it and rubbed it between her fingers, then across her cheek. She smiled gently. "It is a song. He sent me a song." Sam looked at her enquiringly and with a slight blush she said, "She's Got a Way."

The next moment she turned back to Dean, suddenly realizing his counsel could be useful after all. "I do miss the sex much more than I expected. Is that normal?" She crossed her arms and looked at him enquiringly but he was so appalled he just stood mute. When he didn't answer, she continued. "When I'm not focused on some task I tend to feel . . ." she searched for a word and came up with ". . . itchy. Is that how you feel when you are sexually frustrated?" She raised an eyebrow in inquiry and shifted her glance between Sam and Dean, who were wearing twin looks of horror. Seeming not to notice she added musingly, "I guess this is when masturbation comes in handy, right?" Suddenly she laughed and looked at Dean in delight. "Hey, I made a pun! 'Handy', get it?"

Dean put out a hand and pointed at her with a look of revulsion on his face, remembering how Benny had to explain to her how ladies peed. He was desperately afraid she might ask him the same type of question about masturbation. The great monster hunter was not going to die from a brain aneurysm caused by sex questions from a barely legal young girl, especially not one related to him.

He shook his finger and said, "NO! We're not talking about this, not now, not ever." He looked desperately at Sam who was just shaking his head in dismay, backing up while he did so. Lyria looked at the two in confusion and then exasperation. She aimed her disbelief at Dean. "I'm sorry but where do you get off being so prissy? Hey, I did it again!" She laughed delightedly. "Get it? 'Get off'. Cass is wrong, I really am funny." She nudged Dean several times with her arm. Although Sam just rolled his eyes, Dean did snicker a bit at Lyria's unconscious wordplay. She twinkled back at him happily.

In the next moment she frowned and snapped at Dean, "You've spent the last twenty years trying to bone any moderately attractive unattached woman within three feet of you and now you're too precious to talk about it? You're such a hypocrite."

Dean crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels just saying, "I think that Emerson dude had it right, you know, that whole 'foolish consistency' thing. All you need to know is that having sex and talking about having sex are two very different things and we" he pointed between himself and Sam several times, "do the former and never do the latter. That's what girlfriends are for. Ask the British chick, or better yet, the gorgeous one with the mile of leg. That's where you get your sex talk from."

Lyria frowned at them then relented. "You sound just like Poppy. At first he would answer anything I asked him about, no matter how it embarrassed him. But since I found Van and Jace he says the only time I'm allowed to talk to him again about sex is if a man 'hurts my heart or my body' so that he can crush the man's head between his hands." Sam and Dean nodded in agreement. "I told him I could take care of that myself but he said that wasn't the point." She shrugged.

Then she clapped and said, "Presents!" just as she had the night at Madison's. Sam and Dean looked at her but she said nothing further, just flicked a hand at each of them. They looked at her in confusion but she snickered and pointed at their chests. They were now wearing identical purple silk ribbons, the kind given out at dog shows. In the center of the enormous ruffled silk medallion holding the ribbon together, beautiful gold script read, 'Punked by Lyria.'

Glad she'd found a way to end this on a lighter note she flipped a smile at Sam then put her hands on her hips. "I want you to know this will only last for a few days, at the most. But you really need to learn not to scratch a girl's car. There are bound to be consequences." With a final, cheeky grin, Lyria was gone.

But she'd left a little something extra behind. Despite the gravity of the situation, Dean burst out laughing. "Sam, I always knew you were an ass. Now you have the ears to prove it." Dean laughed again as Sam ran for the bathroom to check a mirror but the next moment was wiping the moisture from his eyes.

* * *

A few hours later Sam was looking forlornly into a hand mirror trying to cover his ears with his hair and Dean was sitting silently nearby rubbing something between his fingers. For some reason they were both still wearing their purple ribbons.

Cass came in. "Well?" he asked.

Dean looked up at Cass and replied, "It's worse than we thought and went exactly as you predicted. We've been benched but we know more than we did so we have something to work with."

Cass nodded. "Did you give her the stone?" Dean nodded. Cass smiled in satisfaction.

"Then we can track her."

Dean nodded, then tossed the glowing stone Lyria had given him and Sam into the air, caught it again and looked at it thoughtfully. "Sam, you know what I think? I think it might be time to get Dad's take on this. If she won't listen to us, maybe she'll listen to him."

… TO BE CONTINUED.


End file.
